Cowpie
by onelildustbunni
Summary: A story set in the future--and in the past. Could turn Space-Western-ish like Joss Whedon's Firefly but no guarantees! Very AU. Elements from everywhere. Read it to see! Comedy too. Sequel is Cowpie II. New X-men AU: Helix : Hellion/X23 :: Julian Keller
1. stranger and stranger

**Title: **"Cowpie"  
**Pairing: **Hellion/X-23 (Julian Keller / Laura Kinney)  
**Universe: **Holy AU, Batman! AU with 616 elements (no no the Batman is just a saying, this has nothin to do with Batman)  
**Notes: **

- Set in the future…and in the past. WAIT FOR IT!!  
- All squad members are in their early to mid twenties.  
- Two squads now—just New Mutants and Hellions  
these are kind of like understudies for the X-men

I'm thinking this might be a two-parter. See if you can spot any familiar elements, from my stories (perhaps) and from other  
media. Some won't be hard, some is more of a challenge.

**A/N: **Don't ask me where this came from. Really…even I don't want to know. However it DID come from somewhere (probably outer space)  
and landed in my brain…and laid eggs there. Ew. Somehow I though this would be a cute story (it's not kerfuffle, it's cute but there's a  
strong plot to it or so I tell myself at 3 AM when the doubts are closing in). Also note: like Year Zero, this is a tentative release...meaning  
I may or may not go back and change things such as chapter titles. I may even at some point change a fact--I would for sure put lots  
of notes up if I do. It's all coming together slowly, and I think it's pretty cool so far. Have fun

* * *

**(Volume: 1 Chapter: 1)**

 **Chapter 1: stranger and stranger **

* * *

"Nervous?"

Sofia was smiling at him from across the room. Of course he was nervous…just a little bit. He always got a little nervous when she smiled at him…  
and that was when he'd struggle for words and blurt out something that made him look like a complete asshole.

The problem was, she tended to smile most when she was around her friends. And she had decided, based on his reactions, that he didn't like her  
friends. Not that they were the most impressive creatures ever; but in truth, he didn't feel strongly one way or another about them—he didn't care.  
Sofia seemed to think he would expend enough energy to hate them, somehow.

Whatever.

"Nah." He looked out the window—and saw nothing. They were in free space—aiding in the battle against the Skrull. He was eager to get into the  
action—he'd never been in a full-out fight before, only small skirmishes.

"How you going to be useful?" Santo asked her, his eyebrow raised.

"Shut up, Santo." Julian gave him a warning look. Everyone _knew_ she was off-limits for banter. Mostly this rule was respected. Santo occasionally  
stepped out of line and said something stupid, which meant _his_ day would be spent at her door, trying to convince her that he was just as upset  
about it as she was.

"Just saying, jeez. There's no oxygen, and no wind."

"The X-men will think of something, I'm sure," Sofia said. "Otherwise they would have dedicated me to colonization."

"Mmm." Santo looked over Julian's shoulder. "What we lookin' at, boss-man?"

"Nothing." Julian was in a bad mood. He'd been inside for weeks now. They were on a space station orbiting the moon, waiting for orders from Cyclops.  
He knew they were waiting for the enemies' move…but…the blackness was really getting on him. And the boredom. He wondered, idly, if there was any  
truth to the myths Santo had told him about mutants turning cannibalistic up here.

"Go Fish?" Cessily asked, peaking around the corner.

Julian sighed. "Sure."

**…  
**

"FINALLY!" he couldn't help exclaiming. He dropped his cards, when he 'heard' the summons. He was excited. He was full of energy, having not used _any_  
energy since boarding the ship, on the request of Cyclops, for fear of some adverse reaction with the power grid. Or the life support.

Which was bullshit, but whatever.

**…**

"Maintenance?" he asked Frost, blinking.

"Maintenance, Mr. Keller," she answered calmly. "I could sense your burning energy, and since it's unsafe to use your powers in here…"

"Ms. Frost…when are _we_ going to get to see the frontlines? You hauled us all up here, from our everyday patrols…to sit around and play _cards_. I want to be  
freaking on some aliens already. I mean, for God's sakes, you already sent Alleyne out there!"

Frost's cold eyes flashed, like steel.

"_Mister_ Keller. First of all…this is war. You should be grateful you _aren't_ on the frontlines. Do you want to be dead?"

"No," Julian said, frustrated. "Have some confidence in me, please!"

Frost was unrelenting.

"You will be sent into battle when it is tactically prudent. And, to answer your inquiry, although it is not necessary to tell you, Mr. Alleyne's deployment _was_  
tactically prudent. I assume you heard of his and his teammates' injuries as well, then?"

Julian _had_ heard. Sofia had told him, last night, sniffling in his arms behind closed doors. He had to hand it to her—she hadn't flinched in public, although she'd  
broken down alone. David Alleyne had been paralyzed from the waist down, and Noriko Ashida had lost an eye trying to save him.

He nodded. "Price of being where the action is," he said. "Oh come on, Ms. Frost. You've known me since I was sixteen. You _know_ I can handle myself, quite well.  
You did make me a captain."

Frost folded her arms.

"Mister Keller…I hear everything you say, but my decision is not changing. You may attend to your duties, now. You will be summoned when needed. DISMISSED."  
She snapped her fingers, and Julian got up and walked out of her office, not on his own accord.

"Sonuvabitch," he said when the doors swung shut behind him, and Frost released her hold on his motor functions.

**…**

" ARRRRGH." Julian bludgeoned the metal hose into the side of the ship with his mind, even more irritated. It refused to fit into the coupling on the ship tank,  
and he refused to use his hands to touch the sewage reciprocal. He was a billionaire, for God's sake. He had more money than Frost. His family had made  
how-many donations to the school when it was still running…and had been a strong funding force in the battalions afterwards…and here he was, maintaining _  
sewage tanks. _

His helmet was getting foggy; he rubbed it angrily with his arm, although he knew it wouldn't help. The condensation was inside, of course. Of course, of  
course he had the luck to get a broken ventilation unit. Of course.

He swore long and hard, although it didn't leave his suit because the automatic communications unit was also not working, for some reason. His suit was on  
the fritz. All he needed now was for the stupid tether to break or something (although he would technically be okay)…and yeah, there was Santo, pointing  
to him from the washroom window, and laughing quite obviously (he threw his head back).

Julian gave him the finger and turned his back on him to fiddle with the coupling some more. It finally clicked in place, and he leapt back in repulsion as the  
sewage began to flow through the hose, causing it to move and pop up.

"Gross." He pulled on his tether.

_**Mr. Keller, I suggest you come in at once. **_ Frost, in his head, sounding worried. _**There's been a security brea—**_

He frowned. She'd just…cut off. He heard an ominous noise and looked up.

"HOLY—" yes, yes that definitely wasn't an X-ship. He dove for the door and scrambled to open it, his shield up; he eventually threw his helmet off to the side,  
irritated by the fog-induced blindness. He didn't need it anyways—his powers produced their own oxygen field. It was just standard to wear one.

The door flew open with his mental help, and he looked inside to see a very worried Mindee Cuckoo.

"Frost's down. They've got temporal displacers," she said, distressed. A year ago, just such a weapon had destroyed the other two remaining sisters—Celeste  
and Phoebe Cuckoo. Now Mindee was just a reasonably strong telepath.

"…" Julian grabbed her arm. "What happened to Frost?"

Mindee closed her eyes. "Vibranium."

"Shit." Julian shared his old mentor's weakness to the metal; in bullet-form, it let out a piercing vibration that ruptured his own energy.

"Get in touch with Cyclops. We need to know our orders."

Mindee nodded.

**…**

"AHHHH!" Cessily was screaming beside him, and it was horrible. "AUUUUUUUUUGHHH!!" Something black, like wet cobwebs, was dancing all over her silvery form,  
and it obviously didn't feel good. He could see the surface of her skin bubble—pit—and begin to solidify.

" CESS!" He flew around the explosion and grabbed her under the armpits. He didn't know what to do for her. She writhed in agony. He propped her up on a piece  
of floating debris.

"T-tell Santo," she said, her jaw going rigid.

"Cess, don't talk like that! You're going to be fine!" Julian felt his eyes getting wet; he turned away. Great, he was the first captain to cry on field. He was so  
proud of himself…Cessily had stopped moving altogether.

"You're gonna pay for that, you little bitch!" he shouted, spotting the Skrull again in the middle of the battle. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small  
orangey-brown speck, that looked like it was on fire in parts. Earth. His anger towards the perpetrator doubled and he plowed his fist into his opponent's  
unprotected face.

They engaged in a fist fight, then the Skrull pulled out a knife of that stupid metal and started taking swings. Julian was quite used to being knifed by now and  
easily dodged each attack; however; he wasn't prepared for what _did_ happen next.

" _**Keller, Julian. Designation: Hellion. Protocol solution: Displacement**_."

He blinked.

" Nimrod?—" he barely got the words out of his mouth before he was atomized by a pulse of pink energy.


	2. alice in wonderland

**A/N: **This chapter goes more in-depth.

* * *

**(Volume: 1 Chapter: 2)**

 **Chapter 2: alice in wonderland **

* * *

" PHLEW!" Julian spat straw out of his mouth when he came to, completely confused now. There was a dark, gray sky overhead…soil under his knees…  
rich brown soil…all over his uniform too…no, that wasn't soil_ all _soil. He looked up in horror and a cow moo'ed in his face, dropping some grass clippings.

He scrambled back. He hated and feared cows. Aside from the fact that they were _extinct_ now! He stopped when he felt his hand sink into something  
warm and squishy. Oh god. He stared at his dirty hand and shuddered, then struggled to get to his feet. His knees were weak.

The cow—or cows—yes, there were several—watched him in mild interest, chewing their cud and swishing their tails.

This wasn't right at all. Julian ran as fast as he could from the cows. He would have calmly faced down an army of Skrulls…but a single cow…not to mention  
a herd of the ungodly creatures…one was following him. He was sweating bullets, and his hands were shaking. He whimpered and tried to fly over the fence  
in his way, only crash into it, fairly hard.

" HahahaHA!" There was a shrill of laughter that rose in pitch, then ended abruptly. He turned his head slowly, expecting to see a young child—and there was  
perhaps the creepiest thing he'd seen yet. A girl was watching him.

She was a pale girl (with terrible dirt smudges all over her skin and odd clothing), a bit younger than himself, with black hair, tangled like a crow's nest. She was  
quite thin, and frail looking. Her clothing was so strange, like nothing he'd seen before. Some kind of rough burlap dress, or something. It was stained with dirt and  
something darker that looked like it might be blood.

That wasn't the most disturbing part, though. It was her big green eyes. He'd never seen such cold, dead eyes, even in those he had fought. They had no bottoms;  
if there had ever been a soulless creature…there were bags under them. Her lips looked grayish. He shuddered and pulled himself up the fence.

" Hello," he said, warily.

She didn't respond. Just watched him. She was standing very stiffly.

Then she made an uneven humming noise, tuneless, pointless.

Whatever had happened, he couldn't stay _here_. He had to get away from the cows—and from this—whatever it was. It couldn't be a real person. He'd classify it as  
more of a zombie or something.

He jumped over the fence—deciding to question his powers later—and ran as fast as he could, towards…anywhere.

**…**

He ran until he could run no more, then he curled up in a ball and slept beneath some bushes. He hadn't realized how tired he was. It all came at one overwhelming  
moment—darkness fell, he couldn't see his way, he was hungry and thirsty and cold and dirty…he missed Sofia…Cessily…it was too fresh.

So he slept.

**…**

He woke up with the dawn and tried to focus his thoughts.

He was obviously on earth…and to be on earth, he had to have gone back in time…because earth was gone. Through varying sets of circumstances, the globe  
had been annihilated; much of the human populace along with it, although the X-men (now a united Global front) had managed to, with Forge's help, design  
self-contained life systems that currently supported about a tenth of the earth's former population. Most mutants had survived, having the edge.

OK…for this to be possible…it had to be a time displacement. He'd heard about them before, just never believed them. Nimrod occasionally—according to rumors  
and legend—popped up in battle and neutralized or displaced combatants. Apparently, Nimrod had no affiliation—one of the pieces of information that David had  
managed to gather was that the Skrulls also had a myth about the pink robot showing up in battle and displacing their soldiers.

Perhaps it was damaged.

Whatever the case, he'd have to hang tight until the X-men could get him. They _would_ get him, he was sure—they had a time manipulator, Kiden Nixon. It definitely  
wouldn't be right away though—they had a battle to finish.

Back to hanging tight. He picked at the grass glumly. Perhaps he shouldn't have run from the girl; she might have been frightening, at the moment, but she _was_  
human…humanoid, at least…and where there was another human, there was sure to be food and water. He should backtrack.

…

To his surprise, she was almost in the same place he'd left her last night; now she was leaning her elbow on the fence, watching the cows. He was still in the woods  
when she tensed; he had the feeling she had sensed him.

"Um, hi," he called, when he was a few hundred yards away (hoping to avoid the cattle altogether). "Sorry, Miss…I didn't mean to…last night…" he trailed off; she didn't  
even turn to look at him. Maybe she hadn't heard. He waited until he was almost close to her.

"Hi," he said. She still didn't turn. He put his hand on her shoulder, uncertainly, but determined. She _would_ answer him.

" Hrrrupf," she made a sound—like an animal snarling. Her lips curled so they had little square points, at the touch of his hand, and he involuntarily pulled it away, despite  
his determination. It was…instinct.

Her eyes were bloodshot.

" Do you speak English?"

Silence.

" Are you a mutant or a human?"

Silence.

"What's your name?"

Silence.

" I'm Julian…Julian Keller," he said, offering his hand to her. She was still watching him. "I go by Hellion, too. I'm telekinetic." He'd never been careful about revealing he  
was a mutant to _anyone_. He was proud of it.

Silence. Still watching him. His hand waited in the air, then dropped to his side, after about a minute.

"It would be polite to tell me your name."

The girl looked away. Her breathing was a bit raspy.

He took a closer look at her—a bit more thorough then he had the night before, when he'd simply viewed her as a 'monster'. By bright daylight—it wasn't as gray today,  
things were lighter—she didn't have as severely sickly a pallor. The bags under her eyes—dark like bruises—were less striking now, and now that it was light  
enough he could see that her lips were full and pink.

Her hair was still tangled into knots, and she _was_ wearing the same strange thing as yesterday. He didn't know of a word for it.

" I'm…if you're mad about yesterday…I ran because I'm afraid of cows," he said, kicking the ground.

She looked at him, her eyebrows raised. Her expression was clearly superior.

" Hrrum." She nodded, then climbed over the fence like it wasn't there—and walked, with ease, towards a massive cow. Julian leaned on the fence, trying to relieve his  
shaking knees. He watched in disgust mixed with fascination as she stroked the bovine's nose. It closed its eyes, apparently enjoying the contact.

Then…_she laid her cheek against its nose._

Julian backed away, alarmed. He couldn't bear to watch.

"HahahaHA!" Again, that weird, weird noise, many years too young to be coming from a girl nearly his age. Childlike delight. But she seemed intelligent—he could  
see that. What was—could she—

" Can't you talk?" he asked suddenly.

The girl shook her head at him, her hair flopping over her eye.

"Oh," he said. Her silence suddenly made more sense. He'd heard of mutes, although he'd never met one. She obviously wasn't deaf.

" I'm sorry…I didn't even think." He rubbed his neck. Awkward. "Can you write?"

She stared at him.

" I'll take that as a no."

" Hrrum." She was over the fence again—she pointed, down the field, and made a gesture he took to mean 'follow me'. Then she started walking—she moved  
fast—straight into the brush. He scrambled to keep up.

******…**

Just when he thought they would never stop walking, she turned left abruptly—into a clearing. There was a small, weatherworn cottage there, surprisingly neat and tidy.  
There was smoke coming out of the chimney.

It all looked very old. He'd never seen anything like it.

The girl led him up to the door and opened it. She stood for a moment in the doorway, looking straight ahead—then she motioned again for him to follow.

He stepped inside. Thank god—it was warm and dry and _safe_. There was food. And there—there was a woman, with kind green eyes, black hair—and a outfit he _did_  
recognize, from history books. He'd had an exam on these people. A Quaker. Okay.

The woman stared at him, alarmed.

"Laura?" she asked, banishing the thought that she too was a mute.

The girl—Laura—took his hand and held it up to show that he was a friend. Her hand was warm and dry, and quite strong. Work-roughened. She dropped it almost  
immediately after, her manner gruff.

The woman blinked, and set down the dough she'd been kneading. "Hello," she said warily. She raised her eyebrow, and Julian realized she was looking at his uniform—  
which was very out of place her.

"Uh—hi," he said awkwardly. "I'm—I got lost in your cow field."

"Oh," the woman said softly. She didn't look all that comforted, understandably.

"I'm not from around here," he added. He couldn't think of a good, believable way to explain that he was _a mutant from the future._ So he decided to skip it entirely.  
He'd read enough bad time-travel books already to know _that_ always turned out poorly, with lynch mobs and torches.

"I see," the woman said. "Are thou a Friend?"

"…yes?" Julian wasn't quite sure what she was asking him.

The woman was cautious. "My name is Sarah Kinney, stranger. She there is Laura Kinney, my daughter. We are Friends, and of good faith."

"Julian Keller," he repeated. "I…um…like I said, I'm not from around…and I'm lost…I don't know what it's like here. Are you...are you a Quaker?"

"Yes." Sarah's eyes sparkled, as if daring him to speak against Quakers.

"Can I—have sanctuary?" He couldn't believe he'd remembered that word. He'd learned it a long, _long_ time ago in history class…flying a paper airplane to Sofia's desk  
with a little note written on it, asking her out. The word _sanctuary_ had been said in the background. He hadn't been too interested.

He was sure interested now.

Sarah froze. "What exactly am I protecting thee from?" she asked. Her voice was a bit cold.

"Nothing. I mean, I haven't gotten anyone angry…" Julian struggled for words. "I need somewhere to stay…I'm really hungry…and I imagine what I'm wearing isn't too safe."

"No, it is not," Sarah said, relaxing ever-so-slightly.

"I'll do what I can to help," Julian offered.

Sarah looked at Laura.

"What say thee, Laura? He stays?"

Laura nodded slightly. "Hrrum."

"Mmm." Sarah touched her dough again. "Thee will have to sleep in the barn. We may be isolated…but I will not have my house immoral." She looked at Julian again.  
"I do have clothing you may borrow. My late husband. They are large but Laura can cut them down to size. She is talented with her needlework."

Julian glanced at the girl. She stuck her tongue out at him when her mother wasn't looking, and he realized that, not only was she intelligent—she was full of sauce.

So much for first impressions.

"Thou agrees?"

"Yes, it's perfect," he said, hoping to God the cows didn't sleep in the barn too. Laura saw this look and the corners of her lips twitched up, with dimples—like she  
was reading his mind.

"Laura, fetch Mr. Keller some clothes, then. And, sir—if thou would be so kind as to add kindling to the fire. The logs are piled behind the house."

"Okay." He left the house warily, wondering how his life could have gone so downhill in such a short time. From billionaire to sewage-worker to—to a slave for two _Quakers_.

Why him.

******…**

Laura's head peeked over the top of the stairs. She had some fabric slung over her shoulder; Julian assumed it was his new clothing. He stood up--her eyes widened,  
and with a weird raspy noise she fell off the ladder.

"Oh my god! Are you okay?"

He almost slid down the ladder to where she was lying, her face contorted. She'd fallen a whole story down…all because he'd been stupid and taken his shirt off,  
forgetting this wasn't his home. Granted, _his_ was covered in cow dung and dirt and grass stains…but still. And now, Laura looked broken and a bit blueish.

Except she wasn't. Laura suddenly sat up; he heard some weird popping noises, then her coloring corrected itself to its pale hue with very slight blush on the cheeks.  
She popped her neck, then stared at him, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress. It was no longer the weird sack she'd been wearing—she now wore something  
resembling Sarah's outfit, except smaller, and more suitable for a young girl. He could see her figure now, and realized he might have underestimated her age. Laura  
looked to be about 17 or 18 in proper clothes, instead of the 14 to 15 he'd thought earlier. Her hair was brushed, too; it had a glossy sheen. He suddenly realized she  
looked shy. She'd probably never seen a man close to her age, living so remotely—and almost definitely not half naked.

"Give me the shirt, Laura," he said firmly. If her mom wanted it that way, he wasn't about to change things for her. He hoped Laura wouldn't tell—then he remembered,  
thankfully, that she was mute.

Slowly, almost unwillingly, she pulled the shirt off her shoulder and held it out to him for inspection. He pulled it on backwards first (which made her smile again, slightly),  
and then drunk-buttoned it in his haste to get it on. She made a sound, shook her head, and pushed his hands away, then proceeded to correct it. He turned beat red—  
what the hell would he say if her mom came in right now? He'd end up being roasted on a spit, that's what would happen.

"Hrrum," Laura made a soft noise and touched his throat with her thumb. He jerked backwards like she had just shocked him.

"Absolutely not. We get clear on this—right now—you are _not_ to touch me, just like I won't touch you. Under any circumstances other than CPR, and that will be through  
a straw. Got it?"

Laura tilted her head, pursing her lips and cocking her row, obviously confused.

"Never you mind." He took the pants from her. "Can you, uh, leave so I can finish? I'm really hoping to have something to eat."

Laura nodded then headed for the ladder, pausing for one last curious glance.

******…**

Sunrise. He was awoken by a rooster, of all things. It was crowing right at the window beside the little straw pad he was sleeping on, with some kind of quilt. It  
was surprisingly comfortable and warm.

"Fucking bird!" he hissed, nearly rolling to the opening in the loft. It jolted him wide awake—_he_ sure as hell wasn't going to recover if he fell down there. He peered  
out the window—sure enough, the figures of the two women were already moving outside, bringing in logs. He felt like an asshole for sleeping in.

He straightened up, then made his way to the cabin, feeling awkward again. But Sarah knew what _she_ wanted—she handed him an axe and told him to go get  
more wood. He flushed. "Um…"

"Has thou never collected thy wood before?" Sarah asked, her eyes widening.

Julian wanted to snort because she said 'wood'...because that's what Santo would have done. But now this was vital to his survival. "No…I'm…wealthy…where I live.  
Can you…can you show me?"

"Laura," Sarah called outside. "Please come to help Mr. Keller gather wood."

"Where is she?" he asked, confused. He couldn't see her, even looking out the door. Was there a second story? But the cottage looked tiny.

"Tending the cows. My Laura has excellent hearing."

Julian blinked. The cow field was almost a mile away (thank God).

"I suppose thou could help her hunt later on," Sarah said thoughtfully. "Perhaps she could show you her traps, and you could empty them."

"Laura hunts?" Julian blinked again. _That_ little girl?

"Mhmm. She oft brings home venison. My Laura is a very gifted huntress." She smiled slightly, mischievously. "Unlike many of the gentle gender, _I_ believe women  
to be as capable, or more, than thee men. I should not seek to put holds on Laura's talents…as long as they bring her no harm."

_Possibly the first feminist, _Julian thought, although he did not say this aloud. He wondered what Sarah would think of Sofia, and Nori…and Emma Frost.

He did snort at this, but disguised it as a cough.

Sarah looked up sharply. "Thy has caught cold?"

"Oh, no. I had something in my throat." Julian realized that illness was much more feared in these times than his own…where he just had to have Dr. McCoy inject  
him with an air syringe to the neck to instantly relieve all symptoms. He wasn't eager to let them think he was sick—he didn't know if they'd turn him out or something.  
He'd only known them for a day.

"That is well." Sarah went back to sorting fabric scraps.

About ten minutes later, the door opened, and Laura looked up at him. She made a following motion, then turned, and led him to the back of the cottage. She picked  
up a heavy-looking axe singlehandedly, then waved for him to follow her again. She led him further and further along the edge of the woods, finally holding up her hand  
and pointing to a tree stump that had obviously been used before to split logs. Beside this was a pile of tree sections.

"Hrrum." She put a log on the stump, stretched back—and _wham!_ Julian blinked, terrified. He was going to hate chopping wood, he could see that already. He wished for  
his powers again…but Nimrod's blast seemed to have altered him somehow, altered his chemical make-up or something wordy and scientific sounding like that, so he thought.

She picked up the halved pieces, stood them up again—then—_wham!_ quartered. She spun the axe in her hand like a twirling baton, then presented it to him,  
handle first, with a slight smile. Her lips looked quite pink.

He took it from her and swallowed as she hefted a log onto the stump for him to chop. He closed his eyes and prepared to swing.

"Mmm-MMM!" Laura grunted at him, putting emphasis on the last syllable; he opening his eyes and found that she was making eyes-open gestures at him. She shook  
her head in disbelief and kicked the ground. It was obvious she wanted to call him stupid.

Julian hated when people called him stupid. He was annoyed now. He decided to take it out on the log; he took aim and swung the blade down as hard as he could,  
with an angry face. It missed the stump completely, flying out of his hands and imbedding itself in the tree across from him.

"HahahaHA!" Laura gurgled with laughter, and had the audacity to point at him.

"God," he said, even more pissed off now. He had a mute girl laughing at him. And pointing. It was like saying '_I can't talk, but I'll _**really**_ make an effort to laugh at you  
and make sure you know what an idiot you are_!'

"Hrrum." Laura walked to the tree and pulled the axe out with a little grunt of effort. She presented it to him again with both hands, miming that he was to keep a tight  
hold on the handle. He rolled his eyes and snatched it from her.

"Thanks. Thanks for nothing."

Laura frowned, and her eyes tilted down. It looked like she was pouting. Maybe she hadn't realized he wasn't _really_ upset with her…just annoyed.

"Aww," he said. "Sorry. I didn't mean that." He ruffled her hair, grinning. She was cute when she pouted; she had a very distinct aire of 'little girl' around her, all innocence  
and curiosity—and transparency, every emotion displayed on her face. It was like watching a slide show.

She wrinkled her nose at him and shook her head like an irritated kitten. Or a rabbit. Then she danced away and pointed at the wood pile, obviously meaning he  
should get to work. He tried three more times and failed to hit the log—then on the fourth try the blade finally spliced through it, a little lopsided but who cared.  
Laura showed him how to raise the axe again, still wedged in the wood, for the finishing blow to split the halves; then she left, patting him on the shoulder briefly  
and giving him a small smile again. Her eyes lit up when she smiled.

How could he have thought they were dead when he saw her first? She was the definition of alive. He must have been seeing things. Maybe he had head trauma.


	3. rabbit

**A/N: **Yup, this story has been real interesting to write so far. Amazing how the ideas connected together even though they have nothing  
to do with eachother, really. I just had that I wanted to write about Space, and about Quakers. Space Quakers didn't seem all that exciting so...  
oh yeah and all will be explained in coming chapters ;c)

* * *

**(Volume: 1 Chapter: 3)**

 **Chapter 3: rabbit **

* * *

Julian was having a nice dream. A dream about Sofia, the one time she'd actually let him _do_ something with her—back on Earth—a long time ago.  
They'd had dinner at a nice restaurant—she'd had pasta, he'd had some sort of chicken dish that he'd never learned the name of. He missed chicken.  
Too bad none had been taken when the world exploded in fire.

And, that night, she'd finally come to his room when he asked her. He'd been so…so…there were no words for it…he'd wanted it for years. He was amazed  
that she'd let him. It was after Jay Guthrie had died in an attack. She'd needed something to distract herself, and apparently Julian was the perfect excuse.  
He'd been slightly hurt, later, when he realized she still wasn't going to acknowledge him completely. The moment had been so perfect…she'd leaned forward,  
and whispered to him…

"BA-KAWWWWWWWWWWWWK!"

Julian sat bolt upright, his heart racing, and the rooster fluttered away, leaving feathers. "Jesus Christ," he said out loud.

He threw the covers off and then tidied his bedding again, more awake than if he'd drunk a pot of coffee.

**…  
**

After breakfast, Sarah cleared her throat.

"Laura…I've chores to do today. Would thy kindly milk the cows?"

The girl looked up from where she'd been sitting by the fireplace, holding a big thing made of wire and wood. It looked complicated. Julian tried to blend in  
with the furniture, hoping Sarah wouldn't notice he was still there.

"Perhaps Mr. Keller could help."

"…" Julian fiddled with the bread crust on his plate. "I'm…I'm allergic to cows."

Sarah tilted her head. "Aller…?"

"I get sick when I'm near them," he lied.

Sarah looked at Laura again.

"Mr. Keller, fear is not part of a Friend's life. Laura will show you how to handle the cows. We've not a nasty one amongst our herd." Sarah sounded resolute.

Something had passed between her and her daughter—he suddenly realized that the girl was moving her hands, something he'd been aware of vaguely, but not  
paying attention to until now. Was Laura speaking some sort of sign language? The girl noticed his glance and briefly stuck her tongue out at him.

**…  
**

"Laura," he started, on their way to the stable. "I'm—can I just watch? Please? Or can I do something else? I'm really afraid of this."

Laura just smiled. No, she didn't smile—she grinned. She really seemed to find his fear of cattle _funny._ She kept marching towards the stables, a large bucket in each  
small hand. He shuddered and trotted behind her, stopping every few feet in reluctance.

"Look—it has a proper, scientific name, and everything. It's called bovinophobia! I really don't feel good when I get near them!"

Laura snorted and opened the barn door, then stepped aside, waiting for him to enter. He froze. He was sweating already—he felt shaky—he could _smell_ the cows,  
their fragrance was cloying and evil…he backed away. Laura made a face and shook her head at him, then waved him in.

"Come on…Laura…" he said, more softly, giving her a desperate look. She tilted her head at him and smiled slightly. He realized he must have done that eye-thing girls  
always said he did—something about opening them wide or something. She reached over, took his wrist, and jerked him into the barn. The door closed with an ominous _BANG!_

"Mm-hmm," Julian whimpered. He could see them now, and the fear was taking effect. Even after almost two weeks of being here on this farm or whatever it was,  
he couldn't stop himself from hyperventilating.

Laura rolled her eyes and tugged on his arm, leading him towards one of the smaller cows. He tried to pull away when they got to the last few feet but Laura's grip  
was surprisingly firm for her being smaller than him. She added a hand to his back—and pressed him right up against the stall door, so he was face to face with a  
stereotypical, black-and-white bovine.

"I CAN'T—" he spun around, panicking, and Laura slapped him. Quite hard. The room spun and he held his cheek, stunned.

She was making motions at him. She looked upset. She shook her finger, then pointed to the cow, then brought her finger to her lips in a shushing motion. He  
cringed—he didn't know whether to be more afraid of her or the cow at the moment. Which was ridiculous—as he'd noticed before, Laura was smaller than him—  
by about a foot in height, maybe more; and he was used to getting hit. He'd been punched in the face many times. But Laura packed quite a punch…and he  
couldn't very well hit her back. He had an old-fashioned rule about not laying his hands on women for destructive purposes.

Laura pushed him against the door again, forcing him to confront the cow. It was chewing something—grain--and it turned its head and fixed one enormous brown  
eye on him. "MoooOOOOOOoo," the cow said in greeting.

Sweat was running down his forehead. He swallowed, staring at the cow.

"MoooOOOOOOoo," Laura said behind him. "Holy shit!" he squirmed away from her, absolutely convinced that a cow had escaped from a stall and was going to eat him alive.

She rolled her eyes, and stroked the cow's nose. She cocked an eyebrow at him, and beckoned with her finger. Her look said 'I have all day.'

He was obviously supposed to copy her.

Very slowly, Julian re-approached the stall. He curled his fingers on the edge of the wooden door and watched the cow, the hairs on the back of his neck standing  
straight up. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He could take a dirty punch, he could kill humanoids, he could lift trucks and small spaceships with his mind—but he _  
could not_ _touch this cow._

Laura grabbed his hand again and brought it under the cow's nose. He felt the cow inhale and then exhale, a big, warm puff of air. Then she guided his fingers to  
the cow's forehead and pressed them against it. It was warm, and furry, silky-smooth. He shuddered, and the cow shuddered back, eyeing him gravely. He didn't  
move his hand, but didn't pull it away, too terrified now to move.

About three minutes passed, with the cow not doing anything. He began to relax—ever so slowly—his fingers moved against the enormous skull, and he stroked the fur.

Then the cow sneezed. His reaction was so extreme that he shot backwards and slammed against the opposing wall.

"HahahaHA!" Laura burst into laughter.

Julian sighed.

**…**

"Eww," he said, watching in sick fascination as milk squirted out of the teat between Laura's fingers. She was sitting on a small stool, with a bucket in front of her,  
and she was grabbing each teat and rolling her fingers down, causing the milk to squirt in a straight line. It hissed as it came out and bubbled in the bucket, pure  
cream. The udder looked like an overfilled rubber glove.

She looked up at him and smiled slightly, as if to say 'see? easy'. He was reminded of earlier, when he'd seen her signing something to her mother.

" Laura…do you speak with sign language?"

She raised her eyebrow at him.

" I mean…do you talk with your hands?"

She stopped suddenly, and straightened. At first he thought it was because she was surprised at his question, but then he realized it was because the bucket was full.  
She pulled it out from under the cow, patted its flank, then nodded at him briefly as she grabbed a new bucket.

" Can you teach me?" he asked. Laura snorted and resumed milking. It was then—as she was leaning over on the stool, and he was on the side, watching her work—that  
he realized he could see down the front of her dress. He looked away politely; he'd meant what he'd told her the other day. And although he didn't know her well, yet, he  
felt more of a sibling vibe towards her. He liked it—he usually wasn't able to be comfortable with a girl, and be friends. Cessily was the only girl that he'd eve been able to  
relax around.

_Cess_. He blinked, hard, and hoped what had happened to her could be undone.

Laura stood up and pointed at the stool to him, grinning.

**…  
**

That night, as he was washing off in the trough before climbing the ladder, he glanced at the door. He saw one big green eye watching him from the crack in the door.  
And he was again without his shirt. He finished splashing the water onto his face, gasped from the cold, then began. " Laura—"

She took a step in. She was holding something in one arm—he stared. She was cuddling a small, black rabbit—very much alive—against her cheek, like a teddy bear.  
It had long, floppy ears and a big spray of whiskers.

He approached cautiously, his curiosity piqued. "Is it tame?" he asked. Laura nodded. He reached out and touched an ear tentatively; it shook its head, its nose  
quivering like jello. He had to grin—it was very soft. He was okay with small animals; he'd had pet mice himself, as a child. It was only the big ones—and only cows—  
that he couldn't handle.

Laura continued to watch him, her eyebrows raised. He had the sense she'd brought the rabbit to distract him while she browsed; clever girl. For a few seconds he let her,  
trying again to touch the rabbit and finally succeeding in stroking its head. It closed its eyes. His fingers brushed Laura's chin by accident, and she jumped at the touch, _  
her_ eyes going wide.

"I'm going to bed," he said. " Your damn rooster gets me up at like four or five every morning. It's always black out when he starts. You should have that thing checked out…  
isn't it supposed to wait until daybreak or something?"

Laura smiled slightly and turned away, taking her rabbit out into the night. He shook his head, spraying water droplets; then pulled himself up the ladder.


	4. hunter

**A/N: **

**Laura K. Howlett: **_Then the cow sneezed. His reaction was so extreme that he shot backwards and slammed against the opposing wall.  
"HahahaHA!" Laura K. Howlett burst into laughter. He has a sibling vibe? Sign language and cute little soft black bunnies as a diversion to  
check a guy out? Update. _Haha, I know! Laura's clever. It's totally what I would do. I have three luvly bunnies of my own XcD And yeah I  
have no idea why but every time I think of Julian in this story I see him having a panic attack while the cows watch him calmly, chewing  
cud...cracks me up. weirdo

**Miss Nunya:**_I was gonna review for all 3 chapters but i slammed my finger in the car door today and typing is a little hard.  
This is all so random. I like it! Is laura gonna be mute for the whole story? (not that i mind, just curious)  
Sibling vibe? Yeah, right! lol Can't wait for an update! _OUCH! That's awrful. Your poor finger! And...read on 8c)

* * *

**(Volume: 1 Chapter: 4)**

 **Chapter 4: hunter **

* * *

Julian woke up, for once, not to the rooster, but to the _knowledge _that someone was in the room with him. Dawn was just starting  
to break. He opened his eyes, sat up; Laura was perched on the edge of the ladder, her legs dangling over it. She smiled at him and  
held a finger against her mouth, indicating he was to be silent.

He stared at her. She was wearing—just about nothing. A strip of tan leather around her breasts, pulling them together—a kind of  
thong dress on her lower half that only reached her mid thighs; her legs were bare. He tilted his head, glad she had told him to be  
silent because he _couldn't_ think of anything to say. She was in better shape than most of the girls on the Squads—and wearing  
almost less than most of them—and here, in this moment, she was much, much hotter. She had a quiver of arrows slung on her back,  
and a bow. He reached for his clothes, but she shook her head. She then made a beckoning motion at him…and jumped off the ladder.

He rushed to the edge and looked down. She was nowhere to be seen. He reached for his clothing anyways—damn if _he_ was going to  
be half-naked too. With her out of sight, he could think clearly, and he reminded himself that he hadn't felt attraction for Laura before  
this moment. It had to just be a combination of factors.

When he descended, he ran to the doors and peered out. There she was, at the edge of the forest, waiting patiently. She was barefoot,  
too. He jogged over to her, struggling to button his shirt.

Laura rolled her eyes and turned away, obviously thinking he was stupid for bothering with clothes. He guessed her mother didn't  
know what she wore while 'oft bringing home venison'. She led him along the forest's edge for a while, her head tilted; he noted  
her shoulders. They were square and muscular. She suddenly held up a finger and slipped sideways…into solid brush. He fought  
the branches; they seemed to be attacking him as he tried to get deeper, following the minute shakes up ahead of Laura  
weaving through.

She eventually held up a hand for him to wait, and ploughed on ahead. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he followed; she almost _  
ran_ up a tree—she made it look so easy—and crouched on the branch, watching a point somewhere beyond.

As quietly as he could, he followed her; peering around the tree trunk, he saw she was watching a deer grazing calmly in the clearing.  
It was far away—he expected her to jump down, and almost started to follow—but she remained in the tree, pulled her bow from her  
back, and an arrow from her quiver.

He tilted his head, unable to help himself from admiring her. She was quite interesting…he wondered how she hid it all under that dress  
her mother made her wear—and that sack-outfit she'd been wearing when he'd first seen her. Of all three, Julian definitely liked this  
current one the best. He shifted uncomfortably. It was awkward…he _was_ a guy, and he'd just woken up…to basically see some kind  
of Goddess waiting by his bed. He was getting ideas he didn't like, because he wanted Laura as a friend.

_SING! _He hadn't even seen her string the bow. Just a tiny twitch of her shoulder—and the deer dropped, dead, an arrow in its jugular.

"Holy," he said. Laura glanced down at him, held her finger to her lips with an irritated look, and pointed. There was another deer, a bit  
farther down. It had looked up at the arrow noise, but had not run.

"…" Julian watched in astonishment. This time, he caught the swift motion she used to bring the bow to the arrow, and the moment she  
let it fly, her hand steady and her eye focused. The second deer toppled over.

_Now_ she leapt to the ground, replacing the bow on her back. She smiled at him and motioned that he should follow, then turned and  
started off to collect her prey. Her stride was long and slightly crouched. How could he have not noticed how graceful she was before?  
It was astonishing because he hadn't thought much of her before, had barely noticed her physical aspects when she'd cleaned up.

And they were _always_ the first thing he noticed in a girl.

They reached the first deer and Laura wrenched her arrow out of its throat, studying it. She seemed pleased. She moved on to the other deer,  
making a gesture that (to him) looked like 'pick it up'. He stared at her.

"Laura! It's way too…" the girl turned to him, the other deer's legs hanging over each of her shoulders, and stuck her tongue out at him.  
He turned back to the deer. He'd be damned if he was going to let a small girl outdo him in strength. He struggled, and eventually got it  
somewhat onto his back, far less gracefully than Laura had. She turned and started back through the woods.

**…**

"Oh!" Sarah exclaimed, catching sight of them with the two deer. "Oh, my!" She looked quite happy; Julian raised his eyebrows. Laura had  
walked right up to her in the equivalent of a bikini—in whatever godforsaken time this was—an age of repression, no doubt—and Sarah hadn't  
even noticed.

"Lay them in the back. I'll get your tools," she told her daughter. Laura nodded, then proceeded to carry the deer to the small patch of  
grass-free dirt behind the cottage. The hens had scratched all the foliage away in their forage for seeds. She dropped the deer, and  
pointed at the ground, indicating where he should put his deer. Julian let it slip from his shoulders and felt a thousand times lighter.

She was grinning at him again—she had a smear of blood on her cheek, from the deer's jugular spraying when she'd pulled out the arrow. He  
licked his thumb and rubbed it over the spot, without thinking—and their eyes met. They stood, frozen, with their eyes locked, until they  
heard the door of the cottage bang, cutting the tension. Laura crouched beside the deer and ran her hand over its pelt, frowning slightly.

**…**

That evening, Laura was back in her dress, her hair neatly combed, her curves hidden. Julian was at the table, having supper with her and Sarah,  
after a day of chopping wood. He'd tried milking a cow—the cow he feared least out of the bunch of cows—whatever they were called—and was  
quite proud of himself; the feeling of accomplishment faded when he saw Laura again. He'd been hoping that it was just her outfit that had caused  
the strange attraction; but here, now, looking at her in her dress, he could still _see_ her curves, and the confidence and grace to her movements  
was now quite obvious, even though repressed. It was, of course, not as strong as this morning—but it was there, and he wasn't going to be  
able to ignore it like he'd hoped. Three weeks of content friendship…gone.

Laura caught his eyes several times, even in the middle of 'conversing' with her mother, her fingers flying to form different shapes. He  
wondered if she would make her usual visit.

**…**

Sure enough, when he opened the door of the barn, she was there, standing beside the trough. She bit her lip and looked up at him; he  
closed the door behind himself, looking down. He wasn't sure what to do—he wasn't sure what she wanted, anyway. And he was afraid;  
in his experience, whenever feelings got involved, people got hurt. He wasn't sure how he felt about her—he knew she was a friend,  
a good friend now that he didn't want to lose—but _she_ might think something else if he…and he was going to leave, eventually.

He fingered the lowest button on his shirt awkwardly.

"Laura…I have to go to bed," he said, wanting to do the right thing. "You should…you should go."

She looked down, and kicked at the dirt floor of the barn. She seemed frustrated, too; she was possibly more lost than he was. He  
frowned, moved forward and put his hands on her shoulders. "I don't think we…should, okay? It wouldn't be fair. To anyone." He  
hesitated, then pressed his lips to her forehead lightly, briefly, above her eyebrows.

Laura inhaled, a shuddering sound. He released his hold on her and moved to the trough. He folded his arms, waiting for her to leave.

She was still standing there, her lips pursed, her hands in fists, and her eyes full of confusion. And…hurt? Oh, no, was she going to cry?

Her eyes looked wet.

"Please don't. I hate when girls cry."

She glared at him and wiped her eyes. Now she looked angry. She stomped out of the barn, and Julian felt like the world's biggest asshole.  
And all he'd done was been the good guy—for once. He stuck his head in the trough, miserable.

**…**

Laura was silent to him for the rest of the week—more silent than normal, that was. She wouldn't even grunt, or motion to him, but acted  
like he wasn't there. She seemed to become irritable, rolling her eyes at her mother's simple requests, and day by day she appeared to  
'unravel', her dress seeming sloppy, and her hair messy.

Sarah seemed to notice this, and seemed uneasy.

And then—Laura disappeared. She didn't show up for breakfast one morning, and Sarah looked grim.

"Where—" he began. She hushed him, her eyes stern.

It went on for a week.

One night, as he was laying down, he heard noises outside. Scuffling. And what sounded like panting. He got up and peered out of the tiny, round  
window at the top of the barn—and caught a sight that astonished him. It happened so fast that he wasn't entirely sure he'd seen it. About six or  
seven canines—wolves—and the figure of a small, slim girl running naked in the dim moonlight, away from the area, her hair like the wind.

**…**

Julian's face, at breakfast the next morning, must have betrayed what he'd seen, because Sarah sat down beside him and laid her hand on his arm.

"Thou truly are a Friend?" she asked seriously.

He nodded.

"Thou has seen Laura." A statement.

He nodded again, not knowing what to say.

Sarah touched her face. "God's teeth . I will tell you, then…"


	5. wild

**A/N: **Nothing like a good cliffhanger. It's quite addictive to write a cliffhanger and then wait several days to update. You know...file my nails and such...they  
could use a coat of paint!

An interesting note (that I'm sure was quite evident): I have borrowed elements from Wolverine's "Origins" series, and put my own twist on them. Laura's  
'moon cycle' is actually her menstrual cycle. I did not go into graphic details. But to me, it seemed like a great connection--imagine a semi-feral girl  
with PMS! I combined the idea with the werewolf mythology, and the fact that women, in olden days, sometimes referred to their period as their moon time.

This story has been a ton of fun to write. I did alot of research for it...what I researched will become evident as more of the story is revealed.

* * *

**(Volume: 1 Chapter: 5)**

 **Chapter 5: wild **

* * *

"Laura has had a hard life," Sarah began. "Once, long ago, we lived with her father, until she was five, in Salem Village.  
All was well. My husband, James, had a General Store; we and a few other Friends were building a happy, healthy town,  
where no one would be unwelcome. James was enthusiastic—perhaps he preached his word too hard. Or perhaps it was  
just that Alexander, my former suitor, could not accept that my father had allowed me a choice in partner. Under his urging,  
the villagers of Salem united and declared our union invalid; they went further." She looked at the table, her eyebrows arched.

Julian started. Salem? Wasn't that…oh, hell.

"Alexander Rice was very influential, thou must see. His father was a Councilman, an Elder, who much loved his son. He had  
his ear. And so, they accused James of witchcraft. He was tried, and thereby hung. Laura and I were made to watch."

"I'm sorry?" he said, not sure of what else to say. It sounded pretty horrible.

"It is not any fault of thee. After the…event…Laura was found, sitting on a river bank, humming to herself." Sarah drew her  
eyebrows together. "Alexander Rice was found dead in his barn. He was covered in small, circular wounds; it was a mystery.  
His throat was slit, so no one had heard him cry out. But the villagers were not stupid; they could put two and two together.  
The daughter of a proven witch, found acting strangely shortly following this? They caught Laura…and…" Sarah had trouble  
speaking for a moment. "They hung her too."

"…" Julian raised his eyebrows. "But—she's perfectly fine."

Sarah sighed. "On the outside, yes. The experience changed her. The villagers had cleared, they had buried her in a shallow  
grave, and I wanted to steal her remains to bury properly—like a true Christian deserves. So I returned at night…to find her  
buried alive." Sarah paused. "Laura is different. She does not retain injuries, like normal persons. But on the inside, she feels  
everything. She stopped speaking after this, and I did not press her. I do not know if it was the trauma…or that her throat  
was irreversibly damaged. We fled, as far as we could manage. We shifted from town to town and finally settled here, slowly  
rebuilding our lives. Laura's differences have become…less pressing…however, she disappears, once a month, for a period of  
time. It seems to be related to her…moon cycles. I fear…I fear she runs with wolves."

Sarah rubbed her face. "I also fear that Alexander Rice and the Salem villagers were right, about James. Perhaps he _was_ a  
witch. I do not know. But I have seen Laura do no evil, and I have vowed to protect her with my life now."

"Why are you telling me this?" Julian blurted. It seemed like heavy information.

"…" Sarah paused, and he realized she must have _seen_ him fall from the sky in a blast of pink and green. "Because thou are  
different too. Like Laura."

"Yes, I am," he said. "And I don't think either of them—her or her father—are witches. I think...I think she's like me. And I'm  
not a witch, that's for sure."

Sarah smiled sadly.

"Be careful of whom thou informs of thy…difference. People like I…people like I are rare, very rare. You must be from very,  
very far away."

"Mmmm." He still didn't feel like telling her about the whole time-thing.

**…**

Julian looked up from the cow he was milking—the only cow he could milk without having a panic attack—he'd named it Buttercup  
(which seemed like a good cow name)—at the sound of harsh breathing. There was that girl again—that stranger that wasn't Laura  
but wore her body, dressed in that ragged, crude outfit of sack cloth, stained with old blood. Her hair was a mess, with twigs and  
leaves tangled in it, and her nails were dirty. She wore no shoes. Her skin again was pale, and covered in dirt. She looked quite wild.

"Laura…" he said softly, releasing the teat.

"Hrrum." She glared at him, her nostrils flaring. She was smelling the air.

He watched her for a while, not wanting to move in case he scared her. Besides, he was quite scared of her himself—he had no doubt  
that she could kill him in the blink of an eye. Without his powers he stood no chance against someone as unpredictable as Laura.

Finally she turned her back…and was gone.

…

Laura 'properly' returned that evening, and joined he and Sarah for dinner, her hair once again neatly brushed back from her face,  
the nicer dress reinstated. She still looked a bit pale, but that was all.

**...**

He waited for her, by the trough, for what seemed like hours but was probably only twenty or thirty minutes. He was about to give up  
when the barn door opened, softly, and she peered in.

"Laura," he said, his face dripping water. He wiped his arm across his eyes, and she smiled slightly, stepping in and letting the door  
close behind her. He studied her—she really _had_ changed. He'd never seen anything like it. He wished—not for the first time—that  
she could _talk_ so he could ask her what had happened. It had obviously not been pleasant for her.

She tilted her head, and he realized she was studying him in return—and making no effort to hide her examination. Julian found himself  
holding his breath, frozen in place. It was different now, than when she'd done this before. _Then_ he'd felt like a little teeny-bopper  
was examining him because she'd never seen a guy before. But now…curiously, subconsciously, he was hoping she liked what she  
saw. _No._ He turned away and reached for his shirt.

"Mmm-mmm," Laura said, stepping forwards. She touched his bare, wet throat—again…she always seemed to touch his throat—and  
ran her fingers down, examining the texture of his skin. He closed his eyes and caught her wrists as she reached her stomach.

"No. Remember…I told you."

She looked up at him and smiled slightly. He realized that she _knew_ he wasn't going to stay. Without being told. And she didn't care.  
Huh. They leaned forwards at the same time and his lips touched hers, very hesitantly. Neither was quite sure of what was happening.  
Then Laura pressed closer. Her lips were soft…his arms went around her out of their own accord.


	6. life

**A/N: **Another chapter of Cowpie! Little heads up: I've been posting this on the Helix website (committed.to/helix). Remember the little  
'bonuses' I was talking about? Yup...next chapter. Chapter 7 will have a NC-17 bonus listed on the website. It makes no difference to the plot,  
so it is optional to read or not. I will put a review form on there as well so it is not linked to . This message will be on Chapter 7 as well.

ALSO NOTE: Do not be alarmed, I am _not_ doing it again. I can say this much without giving the plot away--this will not be a babyfic, I promise.  
I had a stern talk with my plotmunster, and I told it very strictly that I would not be doing it again, after having written two already (Vol 1 and Vol 2).

And, fear not, though you may assume it's going to be all lah-dee-dah floofy, it's not. Strong plot to this thing.

08)

* * *

**(Volume: 1 Chapter: 6)**

 **Chapter 6: life **

He was awoken the next morning, not to the rooster, but to a sudden absence at his side. He sat up; the top of Laura's head was just disappearing  
down the ladder. He laid back; of course she had to return, she didn't want her mother suspecting anything. Not that much _had_ happened—they'd  
done some gentle exploring—kissing—but he was afraid. He didn't want to do anything she wasn't ready for; so eventually he'd pulled her against his  
side, letting her rest her cheek on his bare chest. He didn't regret it, though—he'd felt her curves pressing up against him, and that had been enough.  
He'd stroked her hair, admiring how soft and smooth it was—sleek. Yes, that was a word to describe Laura. A good word. She was sleek, feline-like;  
he'd watched her sleep for a bit, and had noted her slightly slanted eyes and the way she pouted when unconscious.

"Ba-KAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWK!"

The rooster had jumped up on his chest and caught him by surprise.

"OFF!" he snapped, pushing the bird away.

**…**

At the breakfast table, Sarah served pieces of toasted bread with cheese and venison from last night's supper, noting quietly the fact that Laura was  
glancing at their guest again, smiling shyly. She wondered if her daughter was aware of what she was feeling, and thought back to the odd questions  
Laura had 'asked' her, before the…moon cycle. She'd even run out of hand gestures to describe her questions, and had been frustrated, throwing down  
her needlework and running outside, her boots clomping on the wooden floor.

From what Sarah could gather, the questions had been about Julian…or boys in general. She had tried to explain—gently—and without sounding too stern,  
too afraid, of what was occurring. She herself was _terrified_—Laura was all she had. If this stranger was to take her from her? But then, she would only live  
so long herself, and then there would be no one to care for her daughter. She hadn't too many years left. She had a cough in the winters that kept getting  
worse with every year. So she'd explained her daughter to the boy, laying a foundation. Ground work, with the idea that he might grow to care for Laura, if  
he understood her. She had noticed Laura's absences in the evening—time she usually spent knitting by the fire—and thought she knew where she might be  
going. She said nothing, afraid to discourage it, at the same time as she feared Laura might harm herself. It was probably time to have a talk with her daughter.

**…**

"Mr. Keller, if thou would be kind and refill the woodshed," Sarah said softly. Laura moved to get up too, probably hoping to be alone with him again; she laid  
her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Laura…thou must stay, I need thy help."

Julian glanced at her daughter discreetly as he stood up; she had watched him, out of the corner of her eye. Something had definitely transpired between  
them; his expression was not too unlike the one her husband James used to give _her_—eighteen years ago, now.

"Laura," she said, a few moments after the door had closed and she'd seen Julian pass the window. She pulled out a chair and sat down, fixing her gaze on her  
daughter, who was looking curiously at her mother. "I've seen you oft glance at our guest."

Laura flushed slightly.

"It's natural, Laura. I…I am not one to criticize. While I do not want thou to be immoral, I understand the feelings that a woman has. Your father and I…were  
rare, in a world of pre-arranged marriages for gain. I am a devout Christian; but does not the Bible speak of love and devotion between a man and a woman?"

Laura flushed harder, her cheeks burning pink. She fingered the tablecloth with its embroidered rabbits. She'd made it when she was seven years old, as a  
birthday present for Sarah (whom had loved it).

"I speak, not to embarrass thou, but to arm thou with information. Thou must know that certain actions…come with certain consequences." She cleared her  
throat and briefly explained to Laura where babies came from. Her daughter's eyes widened; then she pushed back her chair and ran out the door, her hand  
over her mouth. Sarah briefly worried that Laura had already done something…but she trusted her daughter. And Julian, although she did not know much of  
him, seemed decent enough.

**…**

Julian climbed the ladder, thinking it was odd that Laura hadn't shown up, as per usual, to watch him wash. He'd been hoping…he could get used to a repeat  
of last night. For some reason, he was just content to touch her…he didn't need anything else, for the moment. It was odd because he _was_ the same man  
that had been almost desperate to get Sofia Mantega in his bed.

**…**

The avoiding behavior continued. Laura wouldn't look at him at breakfast; she didn't show up at any of the usual places their paths crossed. Finally he decided  
to seek _her_ out; he found her picking berries in the woods, a little ways from the cottage. The rabbit was at her bare feet; he watched Laura for a while.

Every now and then she bent over and fed it a berry.

She tensed suddenly and looked over her shoulder towards him. She set down her basket and reached for her boots, beside the bush.

"No…Laura…" he called. "What's going on?"

She wrinkled her nose at him as he approached. He ignored this gesture, moving forward until he was in front of her. He reached out to brush a lock of hair out  
of her face; she pulled back, her eyes wide.

"Laura."

She flushed, then made a couple of motions. He frowned, not understanding. She'd taught him a tiny bit of her sign language—not much but enough for  
rudimentary communication—but this was too complex for him. He wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Huh?" he asked.

Laura sighed. Then she…she pointed. At him. Then at herself. And then made a rocking motion with her arms.

A moment of panic washed over him—followed by relief. "Laura…we didn't _do_ anything," he said soothingly, touching her chin. "What would make you think  
something like that?"

Laura looked towards the cottage.

"Oh, HAHA!" Julian started laughing. "She gave you the talk! And you totally didn't get it! Laura…there's something _else_ you have to do to, uh, have…that.  
I'm sure you've seen animals do…something like it."

Laura stared at him like he was an alien. He grinned, took her hand and pressed it against his pants in a particular area. She jerked it back like he had burned her,  
and he laughed again.

"You certainly haven't touched _that_. So I wouldn't worry."

She watched him uncertainly. The rabbit head-butted her in the ankle, wishing for another berry, and reluctantly she turned away to provide.

**…**

Julian was drifting off to sleep, having decided that Laura wasn't coming, when a soft scuffle at the ladder caught his attention. He glanced; she was staring  
at him, her eyes just above the floorboards. He rolled and propped himself up on his elbow, patting the straw mattress beside him.

Laura pulled herself over the lip and stood for a second, playing with edge of her wrap; she pulled it off suddenly and moved towards him, smiling slightly. She  
kneeled on the pad, watching him intently. Julian found himself smiling, too, a little bit. He reached up and ran his fingers down the side of her face, then pulled  
her down to meet him. His other arm went around her and he explored her mouth, both making soft noises. He loved kissing her, he realized. She was intoxicating.  
He'd never enjoyed anything so much—not even that night with Sofia had come anywhere near this.

He finally pulled away and just watched her, both breathing hard. Her eyes looked glassy, and her lips were swollen, like his. He stroked her hair softly, admiring  
how it shown in the dark. Laura watched him, too, her eyes exploring. She was becoming bolder with every day.

He touched her throat, wishing she would speak to him. He wondered what her voice was like—it was probably sweet, from the laughter he'd heard. He couldn't  
imagine anything about her not being so.

Laura tilted her head so her cheek pressed against his hand—like a kitten—then she surprised him; she wrapped her fingers around his and moved them lower,  
to just above her breast. His breath hitched, and he stared at her.

…

Once more, he woke to the sound of Laura leaving, still fully clothed, and laid back on the straw, patting himself on the back. It was getting more difficult to turn  
her down. About three weeks had passed—since he'd 'realized'—but it felt like a lifetime. A lifetime. That made him think about his ­_other_ life—the life he'd left behind.  
He hadn't thought of it, that much, in the past few days. He suddenly felt a surge of fear—what if they suddenly just pulled him away?

He couldn't forget Laura. He realized he was gripping straw from the mattress very hard for a sense of stability.

"Ba-KAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWK!"


	7. rebirth

**A/N: **OMG, Chapter 7 is here! As promised, I've been posting this on the Helix website ( h t t p : / / committed.to/helix). Remember the little  
'bonuses' I was talking about? Yup...**this** chapter. Go to the homepage, click on Cowpie, click on the NC-17 bonus version of chapter 7 and there  
ya go. It makes no difference to the plot, so it is optional to read or not. There is review form on there as well so it is not linked to this fine establishment.  
Please **do not** review for the bonus version here. Also, do not view if under 17 ;c)

**AND **and you may notice the strong Origin elements here!

Enjoy!!

* * *

**(Volume: 1 Chapter:7)**

 **Chapter 7: rebirth **

Again, Laura was looking irritable, her hair wild, her eyes slightly bloodshot. She treated her mother badly; she broke dishes when asked to  
carry them and threw her needlework down in frustration and stomped out when Sarah criticized a part.

She became more aggressive with him, too—in her treatment of him, but more noticeably during the night. She bit him, several times, for  
which he ended up scolding her, like she'd been a bad dog. He wasn't sure if she _realized_ she was getting rough around the edges. Then,  
one morning, she didn't come to breakfast. Julian and Sarah sat at the table, eating their breakfast in silence—they usually had a conversation  
when Laura was there. Odd how the presence of a mute girl inspired speech in others. Or perhaps it was just the worry.

**…**

Night time. He was lying down, his arms behind his head, staring at the rafters. He'd become quite used to the girl's soft curves pressing against  
his side, and he missed them. _It's only for a week,_ he thought. The light of the full moon was shining through the round window, illuminating a spot  
on his stomach.

Scuffling. Yips and whines under the window. He scrambled up and peered out—there were wolves, again. And Laura. She was looking up at him, her  
eyes shining in the dark. She was naked. She made a beckoning gesture at him, grinning. Or baring her teeth, he wasn't sure.

Julian clenched the window frame. Walk into a wolf pack? Was she crazy? Yes, yes she _was_ crazy. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up just  
thinking about it. She had nice boobs though. He leaned his head out a bit more.

Laura ruffled a wolf on its head affectionately, to show him it didn't mind. The wolf nudged her leg with its nose in return, and made a whimpering  
sound. They sounded hungry.

Julian opened his mouth to comment, but Laura pressed her finger to her lips, smiling mysteriously. Then she did something that surprised him—her  
lips moved. They formed the words "come here", although no sound came out.

He swallowed, then pushed away from the window and climbed down the ladder. _Crazy, crazy, crazy,_ he admonished himself, pushing the barn door  
open and moving towards her tentatively. Her smile grew. She didn't look dead now, surrounded by vicious hunting wolves.

The canines growled at him, their fur bristling. Julian swallowed.

"GRrrrRRREOWFF!" Laura growled, so impressively that the wolves shut up immediately, glancing at her in fear. She pushed them out of her way roughly  
until she was standing in front of Julian. She kissed him harshly, pressing up against him so he could feel everything. His eyes widened, but she turned  
away, grinning. A wolf sniffed him tentatively and then backed off; he realized she'd effectively marked him with her scent. She might as well just have  
peed on him. He felt vaguely stupid, but was distracted by his tingling front, where she'd touched him.

Laura started running down the field; the wolves followed her, whining. They were obviously in tune with her; they knew what was happening. Julian did  
not; he ended up trailing behind. He realized that she was the pack leader.

She led them down the field and into the woods, leaping over logs and around trees like they weren't there. Julian was hard pressed to keep up with the pack,  
even though he was in very good shape himself.

Laura finally slowed, at the edge of a clearing, sniffing the air. Her hands were tensing; she raised them in front of her face…and claws, long, thin, sharp bone  
claws slid out from between her knuckles, covered in mucus and blood and flesh. She bared her teeth. She looked like something from a horror movie about  
werewolves—except she was beautiful. Julian gripped the tree beside him and absent-mindedly broke a branch off, with a loud snap that made several wolves  
snarl at him in warning.

She never turned. Her eyes were fixed on a deer, grazing calmly in the abundant clover by the moonlight. He swallowed—no way. There was no way she could _  
catch_ a deer, just no way… Her hands flew in motions, directing the wolves around her; then, suddenly, Laura was off like the wind, her hunting pack after her,  
strangely going in just the directions she had pointed. He leaned against the tree. He'd never seen anything like it.

Laura reached the deer first. It had bolted upon hearing the oncoming pack—too late. She sprung, flinging herself headlong through the air, and wrapped her arms  
around the deer's neck, tackling it to the ground. She bit its ear, yanking its head back, and in a swift motion her claws sliced through its throat. The wolves  
never got to touch it alive.

She stood up and grinned at Julian, the first acknowledgement she'd given of his presence since the barnyard. Her mouth was very red, covered in blood…blood  
was dripping down her front too. Julian didn't know if he was repulsed or turned on. He finally picked the latter, very much so…he felt dizzy from a corresponding  
blood rush. So much blood in this equation. She tilted her head at him, approaching.

He opened his mouth to protest, but she shoved her fingers against his lips, looking fierce. He was not to talk. She ran her thumb over the shapes. He could see  
her teeth behind her lips, very white. How was it that Laura's breath was always fresh and her teeth so white? She kissed him again and pushed him into the tree  
behind, and he realized she wasn't going to take no for an answer tonight. She grinned at him, he heard a sound…her claws, those long, white things were at his  
waist. She drew them up, and they sliced through his belt. He felt the points graze him very lightly, cutting through his pants, drawing tiny lines along his skin.  
He shuddered involuntarily, it was such an intense feeling, and her claws were warm. Alive.

**…**

"Hrrump." Laura was tugging on his wrist—he opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. It was bright daylight—early morning. His back hurt like hell.  
Why was he in a meadow? Oh, yeah. He rubbed his face; she smiled at him. She seemed to be done with her strange, primal mood.

He glanced around himself and found his boxers—inside his pants—and, arching his back, pulled them on, struggling with the belt buckle until he realized it wasn't _  
there_. Oh, right. He sat up slowly, rubbing his back. He'd been had it broken, once, in a civil unrest on earth, years ago. When he was 17 or so. No, that was  
hundreds of years from now…he decided not to think about that.

Laura was waiting by the trees for him.

"Where are your—" she took his wrist and led him along the tree line. He ran his eyes over her body again—now that it was daylight, he could _see_ what was his.

His?

Julian's eyes widened, his heart jolted, he stood still. No. He wouldn't be the first to fall, absolutely not—he was going back, he was going back to Sofia…the girl he  
loved, still was in love with…and he would not allow himself to pursue this train of thought. Laura tugged on his wrist, her eyebrows drawn together, snapping him  
back to the moment.

" Sorry." He followed her again, keeping his eyes on the ground. Eventually they began travelling uphill; it was so gradual that he didn't notice until they were almost  
at the top. Laura bent over—he couldn't help noticing _that_—and disappeared into a rock wall. Wait—no—it was a well concealed cave mouth. He followed her in, gritting  
his teeth at the pain in his back.

He raised his eyebrows. Laura obviously had spent some time in this cave; there were furs on the floor, and ashes from fires; tools and utensils on a small shelf made  
from bricks sandwiching boards…and writing—she'd said she couldn't— and paintings on the walls, in what looked like blood. He touched one, his forehead wrinkling.

"Mmm-MMM!" Laura grabbed his wrist, pulling his fingers away, her eyes furious.

" Sorry." He seemed to be saying that a lot this morning. She tilted her head. the anger fading, and she smiled slightly, a dimple on each side. Then Laura pulled on the  
sack cloth outfit, which had been lying on the bed.

She crouched again, disappearing through the cave mouth. He followed.

**…**

" Laura!" Sarah greeted her daughter, smiling. Julian followed her daughter in; her expression wavered slightly. She knew—she just _knew_ something had happened.  
Well, good…it was the first step. She put down the plate she'd been holding and went into the sleeping room, followed by Laura. She'd cleaned her dress and  
dried it in the meantime.

**…**

"I've been thinking…it is about time for a trip to town," Sarah said, several mornings later. Both Julian and Laura looked up. _Town._ It meant different things to them.  
To Julian, it meant safety in numbers, plentiful food sources—fun; to Laura, it meant pain and fear and loss—and evil.

In times before, Sarah had mostly completed these trips alone, saddling their one Quarter Horse and attaching Laura's pinto pony with a lead line to a loop under the  
saddle's cantle. The pony was outfitted with a wooden frame and canvas called a pack saddle that could support enormous loads, and her own horse sported saddle  
bags, although smaller. Sarah did not like to make trips often. Once or twice, however, she'd taken Laura along, with a native girl staying behind to watch the farm in  
exchange for goods.

" Laura, would thou like to undertake this task?"

The girl stared at her mother, her eyes wide. Julian shrugged. " I wouldn't mind," he said.

Sarah had thought this idea through carefully before presenting it. It was time for Laura to learn to interact with people on her own…Julian was a good intermediary,  
he would make her seem more…normal. He was easy on the eyes, and having an attractive male companion always made a woman more respectable. She was also  
slightly hoping that it would occur to them to visit a meeting of the Friends, there, and perhaps say vows—make it official—but she didn't want to suggest it.

" Good," Sarah said. "Tomorrow, early, would be a good time for thy departure. I will have the horses at the ready."


	8. a trip to town

**A/N: **OMIGOD a trip to town!! happyhappyjoyjoy

I'd like to point out that this chapter is _not_ just about being shipper and saying 'they have to do this in every fic I write'--in Quaker times, society  
actually thought this way about women. I'm also working it into the plot; by no means will this become just another shipper fic ;c) (hopefully)

* * *

**( Volume: 1 Chapter: 8 )**

 **Chapter 8: a trip to town **  


* * *

The next morning, Sarah took Laura aside again, having sent Julian to inspect the horses.

"Thou knows what I desire?" she asked her daughter.

Laura nodded. They had a list, in her mother's flowery handwriting.

"Good." Sarah paused. "My daughter, has it occurred to thee what the village also offers…in means of thy spirit and thy status in the eyes of the Lord?"

Laura looked confused. She raised an eyebrow and frowned.

"I speak of marriage," Sarah said softly. Laura's eyes widened and she stepped back, obviously quite overwhelmed by the idea.

" Laura, I'll not be here forever," Sarah admonished gently. "It is time to settle down with a life of your own. Thou are already old to _not_ be married, dearest.  
I'd like to see it in what is left of my lifetime. Do what thou can to secure this for thyself."

Laura looked down. She nodded, slightly; she understood…but how was she going to bring this about? Julian certainly didn't want her _that_ way. She'd understood  
that, at least, even if she didn't understand _why_ he didn't. It must be that he thought she was ugly. She was so good at everything else…she could sew, and knit,  
and clean, and cook, and handle cattle…she could even hunt. She had wide (but not unattractively so) hips, good for childbearing. It was true she couldn't speak…  
and the other part, those times she blacked out, during her woman's cycle. Yes, that might be abnormal—her mother didn't do that. It was only once a month, though.

She was still confused—if she was ugly, why had he touched her like that, and looked at her in that way? _She_ certainly didn't do that to ugly things.

" Good girl." Sarah stroked her daughter's hair, then embraced her, wishing that James was still alive, so she could hear Laura's voice again. It had died with him.

She touched her throat, finding a silver chain amidst the stiff collar of her dress; she pulled it out, and unfastened it, then placed it around her daughter's neck.

"Thy father gave this to me, as a keepsake," Sarah said. Laura examined the silver oval at the end. It opened to reveal two miniature paintings, one of her father,  
one of her mother. "Thou shall have it."

Laura stared at her mother, uncertain. She couldn't accept this.

"Thy father would have wanted it so," Sarah said sadly. She smiled and patted her daughter's cheek. "Come, it is time for thou to leave."

**…**

"…" Julian stared at the horse, tied to the rail, that he was expected to mount. He'd only ridden once in his entire life. All he knew was he was supposed to be facing forwards,  
so the horse's head was in front of him.

Laura rolled her eyes, and gestured for him to come. She took his wrists and guided his hands onto the pommel and the cantle of the saddle, the raised parts at either end. She  
then held out the stirrup with one hand, tapping his left knee with the other, indicating he was to put his foot into it. He hesitated, and did as she 'asked'. She made a hopping  
motion and mimed swinging her right leg over.

Julian took a deep breath—big, four-legged animals made him nervous—and copied her, standing on his left leg. He sank into the saddle with a leathery sound, and grinned in  
achievement. He forgot his right leg and accidentally jabbed the horse in the rib; it shied to the side and nearly tossed him overboard.

" LAURA!" he said in panic. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the horse's bridle; she jerked the horse's head towards her and made a soft noise to it, like a nicker. It calmed down,  
shaking its head with its ears back. Julian swallowed, hard. He felt so insecure with just a pair of reins to support him and control this beast.

Laura untied the reins; then she pushed on his stomach, forcing him backwards; a second later, she had scrambled on in the small space between him and the horn. He felt relieved—  
he'd thought she would ride the smaller horse, although it was wearing an awfully difficult saddle. It had wooden spikes all over it. Maybe it was some sort of corporal mortification  
practiced by Quakers?

They started off with a slight movement from Laura. Sarah waved at them from the yard where she was feeding the hens.

**…**

"Exactly how far is town?" Julian asked, that evening. They were sitting cross-legged on a spread woven mat, a campfire between them. Laura had noted that he seemed to want  
to keep his distance from her—at the same time as his body response told her that he wanted to be much closer. It was confusing, and would make her mother's mission for her all  
the more difficult. Yes, she considered it a mission; when her mother asked her to do something, Laura took it upon herself to make it happen—no matter what it was.

On closer thought—as they navigating through the woods and over empty meadows, the horse, Darley, picking his own way amongst the undergrowth (Laura had to give him a nudge  
occasionally when he'd stop for a tasty patch of clover, as Julian found riding a grazing horse cause for fear)—Laura had decided she was not opposed to the idea, if it came about.  
It was bred into her bones that an unmarried woman past the age of 20 was to be pitied; her earliest memories (from one year of age) were of women around her cradle criticizing  
the old maids of the town. Of course, Laura didn't _need_ anyone. She was different—she needed no one else to take care of her. But her mother was her last link with humanity—  
and once she was gone…

Besides, Julian was interesting, in all sorts of ways. Her heart did a little extra beat every time she saw him, and she felt heated and flustered. She wished, for the first time, that  
she _could_ talk. She had many questions for him—where had he come from? Why was he so afraid of large animals? Did he have family?

She hadn't spoken a word since the horrible day, when her father's murderers had separated her from her mother and then hung her from the tree, too. It had been a strong,  
dark-skinned woman restraining her; it was said she came from Barbados. Laura still had nightmares, of that experience, and the courthouse.

Laura struggled for a way to answer his question. She finally held up her hand, and curled two fingers against her palm so three were left standing.

"Three what? Hours? Days?"

Laura nodded to his second option. Julian stared at her.

"Holy fuck! I guess when you Quakers say out-of-the-way, you _mean_ it, huh?"

Laura frowned. She didn't understand the explicative (having been only in her mother's company for the past 13 years), but she had been taught not to use sinful words, and _never_  
to combine any word of the Lord with one.

"Sorry." Julian looked down; he seemed to understand her disturbance about his language. "I'm not used to this."

Laura tilted her head, examining his profile. It was usually smooth, but now in the light of the fire, he had a slight grainy shadow to his skin. Without thinking—she _never _thought  
about things when she was curious—she reached around the small flame and ran her hand over his jaw. She knew what it was—her father had it, many years ago. She'd watched  
him shave it off, some mornings; she'd played with the foam, and her father had found it amusing to watch her shape animals out of the thick suds. She hadn't forgotten—but it  
had been ages since she'd seen anyone with stubble.

Julian closed his eyes, then opened them and drew away. "Laura…I…" he looked lost for words, so she smiled at him. He seemed relieved. She wondered what he was thinking—she  
thought it might have something to do with why he didn't want her _that way. _Despite what they'd done. She wished she could ask him; her mother's mission was in jeopardy with  
such an obstacle.

**…**

They shared supper—bread and pemmican, which Sarah had learned to make from the local natives, and then Laura banked the fire slightly, so it would last as long as possible.

She laid out the sleeping materials—a mat, some venison furs she'd preserved. She liked the one with the dapples the best.

Julian stretched out, making a slight face. Apparently his back was hurting him. Laura hesitated, then crept towards him. He looked up at her, his eyes wide.

"Laura…" he sounded uncertain. Her throat ached slightly; she didn't understand why, but she wanted to touch him. She stretched out her fingers and touched the hollow area where  
his throat met his chest, exposed by his shirt. He swallowed.

"D-don't, please."

She pulled back her fingers and looked away. Why was he doing this? He'd said—that one time—that 'it wouldn't be fair to anyone'. What wouldn't?

Wherever he'd come from—he certainly hadn't been happy. She'd seen _that_—he dropped from the sky, suddenly popping into midair. She'd wondered, before, if he was from the heavens…  
but time spent with Julian had proved this was hardly the case.

She thought he might be in some sort of military—he'd been wearing colors, with bars over his collar bones. Indicating rank. Laura had seen father's old military uniform, and he'd  
explained to her how different ranks were recognized.

Julian was also different—like her, but in his own way. He'd been surrounded by some sort of green light—it had been coming from his eyes, too. He'd been _flying_ the moment before the  
pink light stopped. He'd nearly hit her favorite cow, Mary, coming down. Mary had poked him inquisitively, wondering if he had an apple, like Laura always brought her, from the root cellar.

Where had Julian come from then, Laura wondered. She wished—again—that she could talk. She curled up in her fur and drifted off to a fitful sleep, her fingers curled around the locket.

**…**

Five-year-old Laura and her father and mother were in the court room again, in the big, elegant town hall building. She was sitting in her Sunday best, her hair carefully combed back  
(it pinched), holding her mother's trembling hand. There was a man she didn't like—Cotton Mather—he had a big white wig, and a superior yet humoring expression. He spoke in soft  
voice of sweetness that didn't _sound_ right from a man of his stature. Laura didn't understand his words yet but she knew it was wrong.

The other man, too. He had sandy blond hair and grey eyes. His voice was sharp. He was quick to emotions—to laugh, to anger. His fist hit the table a lot. Andrew Rice. His father,  
John Rice, a wizened old corpse with his eyes—barely living yet—in the jury, his friends around him.

Andrew Rice's slave—Kimura. The dark skinned woman with a bright smile and cruel eyes. She was strong—built for a woman; Laura had never seen any female with defined muscles  
(except herself later). And tall.

The girls, who had been mean to her before. Pulling her hair, stealing the ribbons in it. They tore her doll in half, giggling all the while. Now they were arching on their chairs, drooling,  
their eyelids fluttering. One pointed at her father, who stared straight ahead. Betty Paris, and Abigail Williams, the daughter and the niece of Reverend Samuel Parris. Laura had seen  
them—behind the barn—doing the very same thing—months prior.

"Pay them no mind, pumpkin," her father had told her then, when they'd hurt her. He often called her by the name of the odd round orange squash that the local natives had given them  
seeds for. They'd planted them in the garden, and to their surprise, the orange globules had popped up in the autumn. "They're pumpkins," her father had told her mother. He was  
well-educated, and travelled. Laura didn't know exactly where he was from. He didn't speak like a Quaker though.

The scene changed. There was a tree, a big tree. Choking noises.

"No!" Laura was saying, in her little girl's voice. "No, no no! Daddy!" Her mother put her hand on the side of her head, trying to turn her face away.

"Giv' heh' heah," the dark skinned woman hissed, in her thick accent. She pushed Sarah away, grabbed Laura by the jaw—her fingers were like talons—so strong—she forced her to turn,  
and her other hand—the claw-like fingers pulled her eyelids back. She didn't want to look, she desperately did not want to see. This was far worse than watching her doll torn in half—her  
father wasn't the right color, and she couldn't see his face beneath the sack. He was moving funny.

"No, no, no!" Laura fought. The hands kept grabbing her. There were more now—holding her arms, her feet, her neck. The hands changed to something scratchy; she was now on the tree,  
strangling, while her mother watched.

"No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO—"

"LAURA!"

Shaking her. Her eyes snapped open; Julian was shaking her, looking pale and worried. She sat up and touched her face. Oh. Had she…

Julian _was_ worried. She'd been seizing and choking; and saying 'no' over and over again (rising to screams). He now knew _why_ she didn't try to speak—it sounded like metal nails scraping  
down a chalkboard, all strangulated. Her throat obviously hadn't repaired itself correctly from the damage of healing. She probably hadn't been old enough for her 'healing factor' (what  
Julian thought she had) to be at full effect; her mutation had probably been jump-started by sheer terror. Normally (in most cases) they emerged at puberty; he'd heard of a few  
trauma-cases though.

"You okay?" he asked, frowning. He was angry that Laura had undergone such an experience; these people were sick. He almost missed the mild-by-comparison flatscans of his time.

Laura nodded, her hand absently rubbing her throat as she shivered. She'd perspired, and now it was cooling in the night. She turned over, so her back faced him; he surprised her, taking  
his fur and draping it over her form. And then he joined her, wrapping his front against her back and pulling her against him in comfort. She closed her eyes, relaxing slightly; she was  
asleep in minutes.


	9. the village

* * *

**( Volume: 1 Chapter: 9 )**

 **Chapter 9: the village **

It was a gray, bleak day, almost dark, when Laura and Julian finally made their way into the town. The village seemed quite still; they could hear doors creaking in the  
breeze. Darley's hooves echoed in the silence. There was smoke emanating from the chimneys, though, indicating there were still people inside the buildings.

Laura dismounted in front of one building that looked like an inn and indicated that Julian was to do the same.

Inside, the innkeeper looked at them suspiciously. Laura withdrew a coin pouch from a pocket in her wrap, fished in it with her fingers, and then dropped several coins onto the table.

The old man leaned over and examined them carefully.

"Ye be wantin' rooming for both?" he asked after a moment.

Laura nodded.

"Aye," the man said. "Yer the Kinney girl, ain'tcha? Oi've heard talk, but I didn' believe it much. Aye, well, you're money's real. Mind you cause no trouble. He yer husband?"

He looked at Julian, who didn't know how to respond.

"Yes," he said after a moment. He didn't want to cause the Kinneys extra money by saying something stupid. The old man looked surprised, but reached under the desk, opened a drawer, and produced a key.

"Aye. Third room on th' right. Meals downstairs at daybreak and sundown. Ye've rent here for two days. Oi've no stableboy t' help, so yer t' take care of yer own horse. Stable's out back."

Laura nodded, then pointed upstairs to Julian. She turned and exited the building, presumably to take care of the horse.

**…**

Julian stretched out in the bed, almost crying in relief. His back was killing him in an age where Tylenol and aspirin and Advil and all the other good pain relievers didn't exist. He wasn't  
built for this kind of life, he was ready to admit.

The door opened and Laura stomped in. She was covered in muddy spots, her hair was messy, and she had both the saddles in her hands.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting up.

She shook her head, her eyes strained. She had no way to explain to him the way people reacted to her. Three young boys had spotted her and had thrown mud pies, calling vicious names  
at her; 'whore' and 'idiot' amongst them. When she'd heard one whisper _witch_, she'd hurried.

Julian swung his legs over the edge, stood, and took her load from her while she struggled to hold back tears. There were just children…but she knew it was their parents that had taught  
them to react in such a manner. "Don't cry," Julian said, putting his arms around her and patting her back soothingly. "Whatever it was, it's not worth you worrying about, beautiful."

She jerked away from him and stared. So there. He _didn't _think she was ugly then. What was his reasoning?

"Sorry…slipped out." He grinned at her, and she smiled, too. Although it confused her even more—taking away the only good reason she could think of for him not to want her that way—it  
still made her feel good for some reason. She hesitated, then closed her eyes—she was nervous—and kissed him, like they'd done before his reluctance had come back for whatever reason.  
Light and exploring. He tensed but didn't pull away; she heard his breathing grow heavier, and then his arms came around her waist , scooping her closer. She tilted her head, running her  
hands down the sides of his face, like she had earlier, then down to his throat. She was fascinated by his throat. Throats played such a vital part in her life—and he had a particularly nice  
one. She inclined her head and pressed her lips against it, right above the small cartilage rise in the center. She didn't know the word for it, but she'd touched him there, once, when he  
was speaking, and had felt his words in her hand.

"No." He gripped her by her shoulders again and pushed her away, like he had in the stable before. "I told you, no. What happened—it was a mistake. I can't be with you that way.  
It'll be hard enough already."

_Why? _Laura asked silently, her eyes burning with question at him.

"To leave," Julian answered. Her eyes widened—Laura was intelligent, but somehow, this had never occurred to her. The idea that Julian would be _leaving_, at some point. She shook  
her head fiercely, then put her hand on his shoulder, too, her eyes big. Why would he have to leave? Everything he needed was here.

"Laura, I have to go home. I have responsibilities…I have friends I care about…I have someone I—"

Laura held up her left ring finger and tapped it viciously, her question obvious.

"No," he grinned despite himself. "But I love someone. Very much. And I miss her, and…that's another reason I can't do this, with you. It's not right. If you…if you were some other  
girl…but I don't want to hurt you when I go, Laura." He tried to smile at her. "I don't have a choice about it."

Laura looked down. Of course, her luck…why couldn't anything in her life be _normal? _Even this was all wrong. She sniffled and turned away.

Julian didn't comfort her, aware that it would happen all over again. Instead he dug his sleeping gear out of the saddle and laid it on the floor. He'd been asshole enough for the night  
without rubbing it in, he figured.

**…**

Laura peered over the edge of the bed. Her companion was twitching in his sleep, like a wolf having hunting dreams. His fingers arched on the wad of clothing under his head  
(he'd removed his shirt); she watched, fascinated. Small traces of green were whisping around his digit. Green, like the day he'd arrived. He made a fist, and she scrambled back,  
alarmed; the silver candle bra on the table was floating in midair, surrounded by the same green hue.

Curious, she slipped off of the bed and padded over to the table to examine this phenomena. And curiosity always led to touching, for she who could ask no questions. She poked her  
fingers tentatively into the green glow. It was warm; her skin tingled, buzzed with energy. Julian suddenly rolled over and sat up on the mat; the candle bra dropped, and Laura caught  
it in reflex before it could crash on the tabletop.

"Did I…" he stared at her. "Did that just move on its own?"

She nodded, examining her fingers. The skin was pink, like it had been massaged vigorously.

"Did you touch it?" he asked in suspicion. She blushed slightly; he made it sound wrong, like she had been nosing into private matters. She nodded, a brief jerk of her head.

He stretched out his hand and tried to pick up the candle bra again, but it did not respond. He shrugged. "Weird. I felt your hand on it. Jean said this might happen but…" he trailed off.  
Laura had no idea what he was talking about. She wanted to ask him many, many questions now. How had he lifted the candle bra? She knew it had to do with the green light—but what  
was it? Was he a warlock? She also wished, very desperately, that she could warn him to never use it in public.

This was not the time or the place to be different.

**…**

"Morning," Julian yawned from the floor, opening his eyes to see Laura peering at him again. "God, it's such a nice change not to be woken up by your fuckin' rooster."

Laura gave him a disapproving look. Again, he'd used the Lord's name in vain.

"Sorry." Julian rubbed his face blearily. He had not at all enjoyed his night on the floor. His back, not having set back into place after injuring it, was killing him again—worse than last night.

She watched him get up and walk to the window. He pulled the curtain aside slightly, staring at the people in the street below. "Shit."

Laura knew what _that_ word meant, and she smiled slightly. Her father had explained it to her when she was small. Her mother had been angry with him for not watching his language around  
'the child', but she was secretly glad that he had enlightened her.

On Julian's part, he'd just realized he really _was_ in colonial times. He'd known this of course—but living with one Quaker and her unconventional daughter was an entirely different matter than  
seeing an entire _street_ full of people wearing big, puffy dresses and wigs. He rubbed the back of his neck and swallowed.

**…**

After breakfast, Julian followed Laura around from place to place, playing the part of the boyfriend holding the shopping bags—except he distinctly wasn't, and he was carrying brown paper-wrapped  
parcels tied with twine string. Laura was a good bargainer, even without her voice; it was apparent that these people had met her before, as they did not comment on her lack of words. Some were  
mean; most were afraid of her; and a few—mostly older women—were kind, and gave her small gifts with a smile and a pat for her hand.

They passed the town hall, and Laura watched Julian out of the corner of her eye. How was she to bring him to the conclusion her mother wanted, when he was adamantly against it? How could she  
convince him to stay? She didn't believe him when he said he did not have a choice. _Everyone_ had a choice. It was the consequences they had no choice about. Her mother could have stayed in  
Salem—but she had _chosen_ not to, for the consequences. What would the consequences of his staying be?

"What have we here?" A pretty, tall, red-headed girl was eyeing Julian. She and her friend—a shorter, pudgier girl with brunette hair—were standing outside the door of the building next to the hall.  
Laura frowned—she would have avoided them if she hadn't been so distracted by her thoughts. They were dressed in the latest from Paris—they weren't Quakers, and they were daughters of  
wealthy merchants from Boston.

"It looks like th' Kinney girl, don't it? Wot's that she's got wi' heah?" The shorter girl had a thick Boston accent, much heavier in contrast to the redhead.

"Mmm." The other girl was studying Julian, and smiling slightly. "You could do much better than a Kinney, you know. Her and her crazy bat of a mother are considered vagrants in these parts."

Laura's eyes flashed.

"Mercy Austin," the girl added, holding out her hand to Julian. "My companion is Elisa Frost. Our father _are_ the Boston merchants, of the same name."

"Funny, I wouldn't associate _you_ with mercy," he answered, staring at her without taking the offered appendage. He'd spared them a glance as they were walking past; the redhead _was_ pretty,  
but it was quite obvious that she had a rotten personality. Somewhat like his, in his own time. It came with having a lot of money.

"Well, I never!" the girl looked outraged for a moment, then smiled again at him. "You look new to these parts. You'd do well to associate with the right _kind _of people, if you understand me."

"I'm doing good, thanks though." Julian took Laura's hand. "Come on."

They walked away, leaving Mercy and Elisa to stare, their eyes like daggers.

"You'll be sorry!" Mercy called after him.

"Whatever," Julian said.


	10. how convenient

**A/N: **Weird, it came up in class for me too like last month. I will state (even though I'm sure that's not what you're suggesting ;c) Laura and Julian are of no relation.  
There's something else relative wise coming up though!And yup, Julian's pretty hung up on Sofia in this one...more of that is coming up. It gets pretty good XcD

Read footnote for another A/N about this chapter (has spoiler).

* * *

**( Volume: 1 Chapter: 10 )**

 **Chapter 10 : how convenient **

Julian woke up in the middle of the night, aware that something was different. He finally realized it was that Laura had somehow worked her way into his  
bedding, and was fast asleep. His arms were curled around her, and his face was pressed into her neck. He pondered it for a moment, then closed his  
eyes again, too comfortable to protest.

When he awoke again, she was sitting in the chair across from him, lacing up her boots. She'd pulled up her skirt to mid thigh to do this, and Julian  
suddenly found himself thinking that her nun-like Quaker outfit was enticing. He cleared his head of the thought, then sat up and reached for his own shirt.

**…**

After another day of errands—including leading the horses, Darley and Trevor (Laura's pony) to the blacksmith and having them shod—they headed back to the  
inn. Julian followed Laura to the small tavern, which was quite busy; it was full of people laughing and talking.

Sitting at the bar, Laura pointed at various things; the bartender brought them dishes of what looked like Shepherd's pie. It was quite delicious.

A few times during their meal, girls in various dresses approached Julian with smiles. He was surprised by the boldness; weren't colonial women supposed to be shy  
around men? Apparently this law did not apply when they were drunk. They seemed to find him quite interesting; he did have different features than most of the  
men in this area. His eyes were bright blue instead of pale (and set differently, without the slight 'bulge' most of the settlers exhibited)—his hair was black, as  
opposed to the more usual brown or sandy blond, and he had different cheekbones. The only people who seemed to share his differences were Sarah and Laura.

Laura watched him warily, afraid that he would accept one of the girl's offers. She'd _heard_ his pulse beat faster when one—a pretty, doe-eyed girl named Amity—  
had leaned closer to him and whispered an introduction and a suggestion in his ear. Thankfully he'd declined.

At one point in the evening, Laura turned her head, and caught a glimpse of a tall, dark-skinned woman in between two men laughing drunkenly at a lewd joke.

"Laura?" Julian put his hand on her shoulder. The woman was gone, and she wondered if she'd just been imagining things.

She turned back to Julian and smiled to show that she was okay. The bartender set down two mugs in front of them. "Yer not stayun' unless yer drinkun'," he growled.

Laura glanced at her companion, then picked up the mug and sipped at it tentatively. Not bad. Julian seemed to like it too.

**…**

"Hehehe," Laura giggled, loosing her balance and falling to her knees. The tavern had just closed for the evening, and they had stumbled outside. Julian was far drunker  
than Laura, for some reason, and kept babbling something. She thought he might be talking about his home, but she wasn't sure. She sat on the ground, her skirts strewn  
around her, and stared up at Julian as he spoke.

"Fuckin' Sofia...never really cared about _me_ anyways…y'know? Always had her own…problems. Don't know why…I…should feel guilty for anything…I do. Right? It wasn't like I…  
married her…or anything. She…" Julian folded his arms and looked away. Laura recognized the name; he'd mumbled it a few times in his sleep…and hadn't he said he loved someone?  
That must be her name. Laura rolled it over her tongue without making a noise. _Sofia._ It sounded very exotic, much more so than her plain Quaker name. For the first time Laura  
felt a twinge of irritation to be in such a conservative life style.

"No matter how hard I tried…she just…pushed me away," Julian continued. Laura was excited; here was information she was almost dying of curiosity over—but could not ask about.  
"She…she _used_ me once…slept with me…and…pushed me away in the morning…like I was repulsive…or something…and another time…heard noises from her room…someone else…ohh,  
a quarter!" He had spotted a coin on the ground. Laura twitched in irritation—she wanted to hear more. He bent down carefully, picked it up, and examined it in the light. "It's…lucky.  
God…I need luck…so bad. Nothing's gone right…y'know what I mean?" He looked at her again, and his eyes softened. "Laura…don't sit in the mud…" he crouched down and brushed  
her hair out of her eyes. "You're pretty," he said. She opened her mouth. She wanted to hear more about his life—but she liked this, too. She felt conflicted.

"God-damn time difference," he said in frustration—and suddenly it clicked for Laura. His clothes—his facial features—his manner of speech—his fear of animals—he wasn't from her  
_time_. It was a difficult concept for her to grasp; she'd never even really thought of time. But his strange appearance—popping into existence over her cow field—supported this theory.

"Fuck it! You know, fuck it!" He kissed her, a little harder than he normally did. "Mmph. Laura…I think I love you…" he brushed his thumb over her lips. She stared at him with wide eyes.  
She'd heard her mother express love for her father, love for puddings and specific cheeses, love for herself, love for God. What exactly did Julian mean by this? And what about—Sofia?

He kissed her again, and Laura closed her eyes, deciding it didn't really matter.

"I think…I think you're the one, Laura…"

At this moment, she didn't need to know why he'd had a change of heart, either.

"I've…been looking for you…for a really long time."

Being sheltered, Laura did not understand the effects of alcohol on the male mind.

"Haha, we should totally…get married…I could wave it in her face when I go back…like look, bitch!..." he grinned. Laura tensed—her was her chance to complete her mother's  
mission. She nodded eagerly.

Oblivious to Laura's sobriety—and his own intoxication—Julian continued on with his brilliant idea. "That's fucking…awesome! Do you guys have…like…a Vegas here? With a  
fake Elvis? I want…pictures!"

Laura wrinkled her nose, not understanding his words. What was an Elvis, and how did you 'fake' one?

"Come on…gonna find someone," he grinned, getting to his feet and dragging her up with him.

**…**

"You! You look religious," Julian said to the tall, bearded man standing outside the blacksmith's, his horse being shod. Laura thought it odd that the man would need it done at night;  
on second glance, he looked to be a travelling minister.

The man raised his eyebrows over his stern grey eyes. He had a heavy beard and a hat obscuring Laura's view of his hair. "Son, you'd best watch who you say that to in _this_ town,"  
he said. Laura thought he was oddly familiar, but decided it wasn't important. Julian had come around to her mother's wish—on his own, despite her not being able to speak.

"Sorry," Julian said, his arm around Laura's shoulders. He squeezed her. "We need a minster, STAT! Coz…guess what! We're getting married."

"My congratulations," the man said, grinning. "For your luck…I just happen to be the man of the Lord to help you with that." He moved to his horse and put his hand on his saddlebag.

"Of course, I expect a small donation to the church I am hoping to found here." His eyes shown in the dark.

"You got…the money?" Julian asked Laura. She withdrew it from her wrap and handed him a coin. "Here y'go..."

"You will need a witness as well," the Minister said, his tone graver.

"I be 'appy to 'elp," a tall figure in the dark said. Laura blinked. It sounded feminine…but why was she so hard to see? She could only see the gleam of eyes and white teeth. The woman  
held out her hand. "I be wantin' recompense."

Laura dug another coin out and put it into the woman's palm. The fingers snapped shut over it, and she shuddered. She didn't like these people.

"Good! We can get started then," the Minister said.

**…**

Julian patted himself (literally) on the back after the vows were said—he'd had a tongue stumble on his parts and almost fell over once—and the Minister pulled out a piece of paper for  
them to sign. Julian took the pen, stuck his thumb out—he was left-handed, Laura noticed—and proceeded to attempt to sign it. He finally pressed it against the horse's flank  
(quite a dangerous move) and scrawled his name on the certificate.

"Here," he grinned and handed the paper to Laura. "Put your…John Hancock…here. AHAHA! Wait…does he exist yet?"

Laura took the pen, her fingers shaking. She hadn't signed her name in ages…she knew how, but they'd made her sign her own death writ before they hanged her. She'd never used it since.

Carefully she curled the pen, drawing the shapes that spelled out her name. Her father had taught her how to sign it, those many years ago, and she had been proud. It was very  
flowery and official looking.

"Congratulations," the Minister said again, beaming. He took the certificate from Laura—and his eyes widened for a moment. He glanced at her, then handed it to Julian, as was proper.

"You may now kiss the—"

Julian hadn't waited, almost dropping the certificate. "Have a good evening," the Minister grinned to them as the younger man took the girl's hand and pulled her down the street.

A few minutes later, while examining the horse's shoe, the Minister spoke up to his companion.

"You did recognize her, right?"

"No mon," the woman said.

"Kimura, you idiot. That was Laura Kinney."

The woman's eyes widened in the dark, white.

"But she was 'ung. I buried heah moiself."

The Minister stood up and pulled off his hat to wipe his forehead. He had sandy blond hair. "I _told_ you, she's a witch. We've God's work to do here."

**…**

Julian awoke the next day to a very unpleasant headache. He hadn't had one like it since his TK had broke through, many years ago. He must've had a good night—no, a great night, by the  
feel of it. He tried to keep his eyes closed; there was a lot of light in the room.

By steps, he became aware that he was holding something, and it was breathing, and sprawled all over him. Eventually he figured out that it was Laura. She was quite naked, except for a  
necklace. _Oh no._ He opened his eyes at that thought, and peaked under the covers to confirm this, then put a hand over his eyes. Something had rustled when he moved his hand; he looked  
to the side. There was a piece of paper there. Curious, Julian picked it up and brought it in front of his face.

"WHOA WHOA!" He sat up, pushing Laura off him. "What the FUCK is this?!"

Laura was quite startled, having been sleeping peacefully with his heartbeat under her ear. She sat back, confused. He was holding the piece of paper they'd signed last night, in his hands,  
and he was yelling, obviously upset.

She was quite confused.

"Oh, my god. Do they even _have_ annulment now? I need my lawyer! FUCK! He's a _couple hundred years away!_ Holy shit!" Julian rubbed his face. "Laura…this is bogus, you know that, right? It won't hold—"

Laura hung her head. He leapt up. "Get dressed. We're going to find a Minister right now, this instant."

**…**

"You wish to divorce her?" the Minister asked soberly. Julian had dragged his 'spouse' into the church and had confronted the older man, almost aggressive in his anxiety to straighten the problem out.

"Annul it! I was drunk!"

"Was the marriage consummated?" The Minister asked gravely.

Julian blinked. "…yes," he admitted. He couldn't help remembering certain scenes from last night, and he was a very bad liar.

"I see," the Minister said. "Well, I do not understand your request then. If she has fulfilled her duties, there is no fault to be found in your union." He paused. "However, you may divorce her,  
providing that she was unwilling to consummate…or that she was sinful."

"Sinful?" Julian didn't like the sound of the former choice—it was basically saying he'd raped her, or something.

"Did she commit adultery? For adultery is punishable by death according to Deuteronomy 22:20-1, and as marriage is dissolved by death according to Romans 7:2; if she has sinned, she will be  
considered dead to Christianity, and you will no longer be united with her."

Julian shifted. That sounded pretty awful too. Laura was staring at the ground, her expression stony.

"Um…can I think about it?" he asked, rubbing his neck.

The Minister waved him away, not finding this in the least bit amusing. "Waste not my time! The Church is for the love of God and Jesus Christ…not for the frolicking of _children_."

**…**

"Oh, God, what are we going to _do? _My training said _never_ to do anything that might change time, in a situation like mine. Hypothetically, if you were in the Prehistoric age, you could  
step on a bug and make humankind extinct." Julian was tapping his fingers on the table, sitting in the chair in their room. Laura was seated on the bed, her hands folded in her lap.

"I probably just prevented you from marrying someone rich and powerful who became president. And then he had no one to encourage him, so he _didn't _become president…and there  
were wars…and…" he felt like crying. The uncertainty killed him.

Laura crept forwards and took his face in her hands. He looked at her miserably.

"I'm sorry. You probably don't understand any of this."

She smiled to show him it didn't matter.

"Oh," he said, realizing something. If death ended marriage—wouldn't his disappearance basically be like death? He relaxed.

The problem would resolve itself.

**…**

They'd packed their goods carefully into Trevor's saddlebags, and were now leaving the town behind, making their way home. Laura glanced over Julian's shoulder a few times with a frown.

She was agitated, but she couldn't put her finger on it. It was almost as if she was expecting to see someone.

**A/N: **I should mention...this chapter is dedicated to my boyfriend...every time we get drunk together we start talking about getting married (we're not engaged yet,  
we're working on finishing school and getting money and all that fun shit). It's hilarious, his mind naturally turns to the matter...I've never seen anything like it.  
We get totally hammered and start talking **wedding plans** and everything...and he's quite enthusiastic about it. So yes, this really happens with some guys.

Thus the basis of this chapter.


	11. a visit

**A/N: **New fic alert...mOBSCENE...helix...check author's page.

* * *

**( Volume: 1 Chapter: 11 )**

 **Chapter 11 : a visit **

Sarah abruptly stopped talking at the knock on the door. Julian and Laura were seated before her, back from a hunting trip. They had again brought home two fine  
venison, and she was serving them sausages she'd made.

Frowning, she walked to the door and opened it slowly.

"Sarah!" A man's voice. Horribly familiar, to Laura. Now that her head was clear.

She shoved herself away from the table and ran to her mother's side.

"…" Sarah was frozen in horror.

Julian frowned. It was familiar to him too. But how? He peered around the women in curiosity. Oh…the Minister.

"And Laura. My, how you've grown." The Minister smiled. "How…odd."

"Get off my property, thou are a monster!" Sarah shouted, grabbing something long beside the doorway. A rifle. Julian got to his feet—if the Quakers were pulling out their firearms…

"Now, now, Sarah," he said, grinning. "No need for violence. I've come to ask for a donation to the church I'm building. Naturally, I thought of _you_ first."

"The woman told you to go," Julian said, pushing Laura aside. "I think you'd better leave."

The Minister stared at Julian. "Have a good consummation?" he leered.

"…" Julian grabbed him by the collar. "Mister, you have some nerve there—_oof!"_ He let go. The man had sucker punched him quite calmly—and quite forcefully.

He bent over double, holding his stomach.

"Come, Kimura," the man said.

**…  
**

"We must leave," Sarah said, sitting at the table again. Her face was pale, deathly white, and she had been shaking for the past ten minutes. "God's teeth. He was  
dead. If anyone practices 'witchcraft', it's _that_ man!"

"Who is he?" Julian asked, confused.

"That was Alexander Rice," Sarah said.

Everything fit now. Julian leaned his elbows on the table. It was his fault that Rice had found them.

"We must leave. Mr. Keller, Laura, you must help me gather everything of value. They will return, you can be sure of it."

**…**

By that evening, the cottage was nearly empty, and every animal that could bear a load was doing so, including most of the cattle and the horses—and the humans.

Julian was frustrated that he could not make his powers work. It would be a piece of cake to defend the Kinneys if he was functioning normally. But—accordingly with his luck—  
they were not—and therefore they had to leave their home.

He felt like such an asshole.

"Do not feel bad, Mr. Keller," Sarah said, laying her hand on his shoulder. "It is not thy fault that the man is insane. We will simply start over." She smiled kindly at him, and Julian  
wondered how someone could be so strong. He felt terrible—and it wasn't even his house.

"Come. Thy will ride Darley, with Laura. I'll take the pony. We must leave now. They will not expect us to ride by night."

"Oh really?" Sarah turned, startled. There was Rice—holding a torch. In the darkness behind him, Julian could see the same woman that he'd called Kimura.

"Rice." Sarah pulled her rifle from the saddlebag. "I warned thou to stay away. I do not easily forget the relief that thy death brought me."

Rice smiled. "Seize her," he told Kimura. The woman lunged forwards—fast as lightning—and her hands were around Sarah's neck, strangling her. "How dat feel, mon? Dey  
gonna 'ang you too!"

"ARRRGH!" Laura catapulted from between two cows, a blur of motion. She rammed her fist into Kimura's back; the woman cried out and dropped her mother. Julian saw blood  
fly—her claws must have gone in.

"Damn witch!" Kimura shouted, grabbing Laura by the wrist and dragging her around to her face. "You should 'ave stayed dead!"

Laura glared at the woman.

"You see what these witches have done?" Rice's voice boomed. He picked up the gun from the ground. "Not only did they try to sneak away…but the elder witch threatened  
myself with bodily harm. Is that the action of an innocent woman, I wonder?"

Julian glanced behind Rice.

A lynch mob. Oh, boy.

**…  
**

"Come on, come on…" Julian made a fist, focusing as hard as he could on the stupid steel deadbolt. They were in a wooden wagon, hauling them back to town; Sarah was sitting,  
pale and silent, alongside Laura, who glanced occasionally at Julian. _She_ knew what he could do—and what he was trying.

It just wouldn't work. Julian gave himself a headache, trying so hard to access the part of his mind that controlled his TK; but he just couldn't use it. He tried all of the exercises  
Jean Grey had taught him.

Something happened. He began to nod off, his mind relaxing; Laura crawled over to sit beside him. She tapped his shoulder; he opened his eyes—and started.

The lock was open.

"Run, as fast as you can," Sarah said.

**…**

"LAURA!" Julian ran back; the girl had caught her boot on a root and sprawled headlong. He took her hand and pulled her up, terrified, then started running again, still holding her  
hand. The shouting was getting closer. He tried desperately to levitate them to safety, but again, his powers were not cooperating.

_Bang._

"AHHH!"

Laura's head whipped around; Sarah was falling, a spray of blood in the airspace she'd just occupied.

"NO!" The horrible, screeching voice. Laura pulled herself free of Julian's hold and ran back, tears streaming down her face, to where her mother now lay. He ran  
after her. "Laura! We have to…oh, god,"

Sarah was lying in the dirt, the front of her dress completely drenched in blood. It was seeping into the soil at Laura's feet. She sunk to her knees.

"my…Laura…" Sarah closed her eyes, exhaling. "NO!" Laura made that horrible noise again. Julian grabbed her shoulders. "We have to _go!_"

"NO!" Laura slapped him away; he grabbed her waist and flung her over his shoulder. He made a fist as he started running again, it sparked green.

_Bang. _"GRR!" He tripped and dropped the girl, his hand automatically finding his shoulder. The bullet had missed its target, but had still caught him in an excruciatingly  
painful place. He felt the lights going out.

"RUN!" he shouted to Laura, but it was too late—they were surrounded. Julian passed out.


	12. witch hunt

**A/N: **I tried, I really tried to find the proper passages read by a Minister during an actual Witch Hunt, but couldn't. I modified the words to an Exorcism ever-so-slightly and  
here they are. Sorry if it is inaccurate, if you are religious please consider it only in the context of the story XD don't mean to offend no one.

**( Volume: 1 Chapter: 12 )**

 **Chapter 12 : witch hunt **

* * *

Much later, Julian came to, in too much pain to clearly understand what was happening. His hearing was muffled for some reason. Oh, there was something over his face. Burlap,  
or something. He tried to move his hand to reach it, and hissed in pain. It was tied at his back…and there was the gaping hole in his shoulder. Goddamn.

The hood was yanked off his head, and he gasped for air through his nose. There was something in his mouth—a gag. Cotton.

"…the accusations of witchcraft to one Julian Keller, and one Laura Kinney?"

There was a big man in front of them, with a wig. He was holding a book.

"Mmmmph," Laura was standing next to him, her eyes bulging. She looked terrified...she was staring ahead. He squinted ahead—it was still blurry…

There was a tree. With a long rope. With a loop at the end.

_GODDAMNIT, _he thought, struggling with his powers again. He was in too much pain and there was something blocking them…he was only making sparks. Which wasn't helping.

"They enchanted me!" a redheaded girl shouted from the crowd. "He tried to make me to do his biddings! Forced, unlawful carnal knowledge!" Mercy Austin.

Oh.

"…" the man shuddered in disgust.

"I'm sure we all _saw_ what he did," Andrew Rice said. He pointed at Julian. "Look! He's doing it now! Best get on with it, the devil is strong in these ones."

The Minister in front of Julian and Laura cleared his throat.

"Today, we have gathered here to witness two demons cast back into the pits of hell from whence they came. Let God arise! Let his enemies be scattered! Let all that  
hate Him flee before him! As smoke drifts away, so drive them away! As wax melts before the fire, so let the wicked perish before the presence of God. Behold the  
Cross of the Lord, flee bands of enemies. The Lion of the Tribe of Judah, the Offspring of David."

The lynch mob broke into a roar, forming words.

"Who is like God?!  
Who is like God?!  
Who is like God?!  
Who is like Christ, True God and True Man.  
Who is like the blessed virgin Mary, our Queen, who gave birth to the Eternal Word, a virgin before and after?!

Be gone Satan in the name of Jesus!  
Be gone Satan in the name of Mary!  
Be gone Satan in the name of everything that is Holy and Righteous!  
Be gone Satan in the name of all the Saints! Be gone all ye demons and go to the pit!

To the pit!  
To the pit!  
To the pit!"

The minister held up his hand.

"Jesus Christ commands you!" he continued alone.

"Saint Michael the Archangel commands you!  
Holy Mary commands you!

Go to the pit and never return! Do not harm the human race anymore. I command you to be gone forever to the pit never to return!"

The minister splashed some kind of fluid in both of their faces. Julian blinked. It stung like hell—there was some sort of alcohol in it.

"Be gone Satan!  
Be gone Satan!  
Be gone Satan!  
Be gone Satan in the name of Jesus!"

The Minister snapped his book shut."Then, by the power invested in me by the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, I condemn these two demons to hell!"

He pointed at Laura. "Her first!"

If Julian had thought she'd struggled before, he'd been wrong. He'd never seen anyone so afraid of _anything _in his life. He swallowed—he'd be next. He realized he  
was crying, but not over himself. It broke his heart, to know Laura was going to die. He tried to pry his arms apart desperately, having given up on his powers.

"MMMPH!" He shouted into his gag. Someone had stuck their finger almost completely into the wound and then twisted it. He heard laughing, and saw stars.

_Click. Click. _Laura's feet shackles had been unfastened; and moments later, the tall, dark-skinned assistant of Rice carried the girl by the scruff of her neck to the  
rope. Laura kicked and shouted into her gag.

Julian fought his shackles again, but it was no use; he started trying his powers again, desperately. _Maybe I can catch her, _he hoped.

Kimura slammed her fist into Laura's face with a grin. "Miss me?" she teased, the grabbed the girl by her shackles and lifted her into the noose, her feet on a small  
wooden box. The woman was absurdly strong. Laura's eyes bulged and she whipped her head around, trying to bite her captor. Kimura laughed and tugged on the  
rope, so it was snug; then hooked her fingers into a chain around the girl's neck and broke it off.

Laura was screaming now, and it was the most awful sound Julian had ever heard. Like an orchestra of nails screeching down chalkboard—like a banshee—like a cat  
being tortured with a rake. He saw Kimura flex her leg back, and he closed his eyes, trying desperately to grab Laura with his mind.

_SNAP!_

It hadn't worked. Laura's screams gave way to a horrible choking noise, and he sank down to his knees, feeling sick. He'd never been so angry at humans, so willing  
to kill. The choking noises faded, then stopped.

He couldn't look. Her heard motions, then a thump beside him—Laura's body—and then strong, talon-like hands grabbed him by his shirt collar. "You now, warlock,"  
Kimura hissed in his ear, dragging him towards the tree. He complied without fighting, suddenly realizing he didn't _want_ to live, after seeing what had happened to  
Laura, how monstrous people could be. He thought, too, that he might not want to live in the world just because she was not in it.

Kimura raised him to the tree, and he felt the rope go around his neck. "Open yoah eyesssss," Kimura hissed, jamming her fingers against his eyelids and forcing them  
open. He stared—he saw something, over her shoulder.

"STOP HER!" People were running. Laura was up, her claws out; and seconds later she hit Kimura in the back, knocking her out of the way. The box flew out from  
under him in the struggle, and for an instant he was choking. He grabbed the rope—_SNAP! _Energy traveled up his fingers and the material disintegrated. He dropped  
to the ground, his throat burning, but he was alive.

Laura was straddling Kimura, and doing something, her arms flying. Julian scrambled up, rubbing his throat; her fists were pummeling the woman's face. Kimura grabbed  
ahold of her back and pulled, seeking to remove her; Laura flew to the side, her dress tearing down the center. She stood for a second, then ripped the remaining  
fabric off. She was wearing her hunting gear under it.

"NNYARGH!" Laura lunged for the woman again, her claws sliding out. Of her feet, too. Julian didn't know she _had_ claws in her feet. She spun around, her foot  
sweeping through the air near Kimura's head; the woman's long, black hair, tied back into braids, was severed.

"Stupid cow!" Kimura shouted, obviously upset.

Laura rammed her clawed fist into the woman's throat. "You killed my MOTHER." she said, her voice chilling and cold…but not distorted. Julian stared.

"…kafff…" Kimura's throat blossomed. Laura's claws slid out, and she fell to her knees, trying to breathe. _SHLINK! _ Laura's foot whipped through the air, and Kimura didn't  
inhale again. She bent over and took back her chain from the woman's pocket.

"MMMPH!" Julian struggled in his bonds, ignoring the pain. Kimura might be down, but there were dozens more approaching, torches in their hands. Laura crouched by his  
head and cut his gag off. "Laura…get my feet shackles off!" he said. Laura shook her head. "Can't. 'Twas the jail keeper who removed mine." Her voice _was_ pleasant,  
just like he'd imagined it. Deeper, but very smooth, like honey. She crouched and examined the approaching persons. "How the hell are you talking?!" Julian exclaimed. "I—"

The Minister was upon them. He thrust his torch towards Laura. "HELL SPAWN!" he screeched. "We shall burn them!"

"Goodbye, Julian," Laura said, her hand to his neck. He realized she was about to kill him to spare him the pain.

The Minister threw his torch towards Julian; it stopped in midair, with a green glow. And a distortion. That didn't look right…

"Captain Keller?"

Julian turned his head. Private Kiden Nixon. He knew her, a girl with shaggy blond hair. Her uniform was blue for the Special Forces, and she had two stripes and a globe-shaped  
badge on her collarbone. She'd once been on his squad, but now Private Nixon was too valuable to fight in the front lines; most of her time was spent working with Frost and  
Dr. McCoy to find the exact point in time where they had lost Earth—and reverse it.

"Nixon," he breathed in relief. He smiled and looked up at Laura—she was frozen. Frozen in time. "No! Unfreeze her!"

"I can't, Captain," Private Nixon said. "You know the rules."

"Rules be damned! She's coming with me…and that's final. You understand?" He glared at her with all the energy and dignity he could muster, being shackled hand and foot,  
with rope burns on his neck.

"No." Private Nixon stuck her chin out. "Captain…with all due respect…you're not above Frost in rank. She told me I was never, under any circumstance, to alter time. I am  
undoing an alteration in time by bringing you back."

"She is going to die," Julian said fiercely. "Her mother has been killed. So has her father. I will _not_ leave her here to die. If you don't bring her…I won't come."

Private Nixon tilted her head, and grinned.

"You _like_ her, don't you? Girls have always been your weak point, Keller."

"I'd die for her." He said this in a very final tone.

Private Nixon blinked.

"Well, then, you can die in your room, on your own time. I don't think Frost will be too happy, though." She took hold of Julian's hand, and before he could protest—white out.


	13. homecoming

**A/N: **Yes, yes it was quite a cliffhanger. Here y'go. It was quite interesting to write...it could have gone either of two ways. I may, in the future, write an alternate version.  
Of an AU. lol. And this is the last chapter of Cowpie...1. Oh, did you really think I wouldn't make a 2...keep your eyes peeled...I'll announce it on the Helix story, and probably the  
website. It won't be long.

**( Volume: 1 Chapter: 13 )**

 **Chapter 13 : homecoming **

* * *

"NO!" Julian fell to his knees on the metal floor. "SEND ME BACK! SEND ME BACK! RIGHT NOW!" He fought the restraints.

"Idiot." Private Nixon stepped aside; Laura was staring at him with wide eyes, confused.

"Oh." He flushed, beet red.

"PRIVATE NIXON!" Frost swept into the room, her expression furious. "What is the _meaning_ of this?!"

"He—ask him," Nixon said, pointing at Julian.

"I'm asking _you_, the time manipulator! Did I or did I not _explicitly instruct you_ that you were _only_ to retrieve Julian Keller?!" She thrust her finger towards Laura.

"DOES THAT LOOK LIKE KELLER TO YOU?!"

Laura rubbed her throat, looking up at the shouting woman with wide eyes.

"No _ma'am,_" Private Nixon said. "He gave me a good enough reason, though. _Ask him._"

"Keller…" Frost glared at Julian.

"Wait a minute. Last I checked, _you_ were dead yourself," Julian pointed out. "Correct me if I'm wrong…but did Private Nixon here have anything to do with that? _Ma'am?"_

"…" Frost stared at him.

"Or are you exempt from your little rules? _Ma'am?_" he added.

"You are in hot water up to your _ears_, Keller. Visit the medical bay, then go directly to your room. You are to be detained for forty-eight hours, or until I can _look_ at you without  
wanting to destroy that wheezing engine you call a mind!" Frost spat. "Put her back, Nixon."

"I can't. _Ma'am._ Unless you want me to stop Project 22-A and focus my energies on it." She stared Frost down, who suddenly turned and swept out of the room.

"She's just in a bad mood," Julian mumbled to Laura. Then he jerked his head up at Nixon. "Did Cessily…I mean, Private Mercury?"

"She's okay," Private Nixon said, folding her arms. "We'd better do what she said."

Julian concentrated on his shackles, and they burst open and clunked to the floor. Apparently, his powers worked _just fine_ in the here and now. How irritating. Not that he wasn't  
happy to have them back…but he was going to have nightmares about that experience for years to come.

"Come on." He grinned and got to his feet, holding his good hand out to Laura. She took it and pulled herself up, her eyes darting everywhere. This must be so strange…so foreign to  
her…as foreign as it had been for _him_ to live in her time. Except worse…he'd already known those times had existed…Laura certainly wouldn't understand any of this.

**…**

They passed through the lounge room with the enormous glass-like wall on their way to the quarters area (after Julian visited Dr. McCoy and Elixir in the medical bay, Laura and  
Private Nixon having waited outside).

"Julian!" Sofia leapt up from her Squad table with a bright smile. "I was so worried! Is it true that you were visited by Nimrod?"

She made it sound like the Tooth Fairy.

"Keller," Nixon said sharply.

"Yes," Julian answered. "I can't talk, Sof, I'm being detained."

"What?!" Sofia looked alarmed. "Why would Frost do such a thing?! You've just been recovered!..." she focused at the girl standing slightly behind her boyfriend, at the wall-window,  
gawking out. She had black, long hair, wide green eyes, and a shapely figure; and she was wearing almost nothing. Some kind of yellow fabric…was that leather? Less than Frost, on  
her raunchiest days. How could the girl walk around in public like that?

"Who is she?" she asked.

"I'll tell you later. Frost said forty-eight."

Julian turned—the girl followed him, after a moment. Sofia blinked.

**…**

"Make yourself at home," he said, rubbing his neck as they entered his room. It was a complete mess; he'd forgotten that the morning he'd left, he'd ripped his closet apart to find a pair  
of clean boxers. On top of the rest of the usual bachelor mess. He was embarrassed.

Laura blinked, then crept into the room, leapt onto the bed, and walked to the window to continue staring out.

"We're in space." He closed the door behind him. "Free space, it's called. Nothing but Hydrogen and Helium."

Laura continued to stare.

"I'm sure you have questions," he said, moving to his closet and picking up clothing articles.

Laura continued to stare.

He stuffed the pile into his hamper, deciding he would do laundry tomorrow. He was exhausted right now. The clock—the only way of measuring time out here—said it was 23:00 hours. All  
clocks now ran on military standard.

Laura continued to stare.

"Here." He pulled a (miraculously) clean t-shirt from the wire rack and tossed it to her. It hit her shoulder and slid down.

Laura continued to stare.

"Laura…come on, it's not going anywhere, I promise. It's the same stuff you saw in the sky at night. I want to sleep—I haven't slept on a bed since…well, since I left. As long as I've known you."

She looked away reluctantly, and reached down for the shirt he had dropped. He studied her, and suddenly realized he didn't have to make himself look away anymore. "Whoa—hang on." He  
jumped on the bed and took the shirt from her, throwing it to the floor, then pressed her to the wall. "You know, I'm so glad the two outfits I like best came with you," he mumbled. Laura  
looked confused—more so than she already.

Then tears ran down her face.

_Son of a bitch. _He pulled her against him and rubbed her back. "Shh. It's okay."

"M-mother," she hiccoughed after a minute.

He suddenly remembered Sarah, and his vague irritation stopped. He held Laura tighter, trying to comfort her. "Laura…she went to a better place. She'll be okay. She knows you're safe now.  
I won't let anything happen to you, okay?" He didn't know what else to say; he'd liked Sarah, and had been horrified to see her die. But he'd lost so many people in the past years, to war,  
and other issues; he was becoming, in a sense, desensitized.

Laura sobbed harder, and he let her. Then he sat her back and took her chin in his hand. "Look at me," he said. "Don't think about it at all."

She finally looked at him, still hiccoughing, but her breathing quieted. She seemed to respond best to direct orders. He took her hand and led her into his small bathroom, then sat her on the  
toilet seat. He cracked open a package containing a new toothbrush, and after applying some paste (a batch Dr. McCoy had created), handed it to her, for lack of anything better to do.

Laura sat on the toilet, staring at the tooth brush in confusion.

"Put it in your mouth and clean your teeth," Julian instructed. After a moment, he did it for her, then curled her fingers around the handle.

She did so for a while, then he had to show her how to use the sink. His eyes settled on the shower. Good. He closed the door and stripped off his shirt and pants, then stood in front of Laura.

"Can you…take it off?" he asked. Laura was staring at him; she'd never seen him naked in full light. He touched her hair, then set to working on the knot on her top with his fingers. Laura  
reached behind herself and pulled on something (he wasn't sure what) and it undid itself. He slid his hands down her body and hooked his fingers in the sides of her thong skirt.

Knowing it wasn't the time, he kissed her knee, then got up and turned the shower on. It was pure H2O, synthesized by Dr. McCoy in his lab. Forge had designed a large ship that contained  
an ecosystem that produced Oxygen and Carbon, two essential elements in the lab works of the ships.

**…**

After the shower (and after showing Laura how the toilet worked) he took her to his bed and pulled back the covers, relishing how _soft_ they felt in his hand. He was quite excited. He scrambled  
in after her and buried his face into his pillow. "Oh, fuck…" he moaned, closing his eyes. Then he pulled the covers over them and gathered Laura closer. "Lights off," he said. Laura squeaked as  
the unit went dark, then sniffled again. He held her face against his neck, struggling to stay awake until her breathing quieted, and she was asleep.


End file.
